


i could live by the light in your eyes

by allornothing



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:45:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allornothing/pseuds/allornothing
Summary: “I don’t want this any more than you do.” He whispers once their parents leave them alone and head to the living room and he sees relief wash over her. They at least have that in common, if anything. “So I say we pretend for the night, just so they leave us alone and we never have to see each other again after tonight.” A plan to which she agrees.Great.





	1. you are carbon and i am flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maricejayo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maricejayo/gifts).



Scott hates the suit he’s wearing. He hates that his parents arranged this meeting with a girl he only knows the name of. _Tessa_ , they said. He doesn’t know her but he already hates her. Not that he doubt his parents when it comes to girls he might like – they’ve always been spot on with the past girls he’s dated, figured the reason their relationship would end before he did it himself, but this time’s different. First of all because, well, he knows nothing of her. He couldn’t pick her out in a crowd, couldn’t tell you what her voice sounds like, her laugh, or which color are her eyes. (He’d later learn that they’re a gorgeous green, a light shade that darkened and turned emerald whenever something was troubling her.) Second reason why he despises her without ever meeting her is that he knows she’s from a wealthy family. Just like he is, but he’s not really into the whole flaunting-your-fortune kind of guy. He’s always been more of a simple guy; the kind that works on a truck in his spare time instead of buying cars that would never get through the Canadian winter. The kind that doesn’t like champagne and banquets on a Saturday night, preferring hockey games with his buddies with beers and chips instead. He guess that's she's the complete opposite of him in that department. Probably some daddy's girl who already has five credit cards and buys really expensive clothes. Third is that, because of her, he has to wear this ridiculous suit that he’s really uncomfortable in. The dinner hasn’t even started that he already wants to go back to his place, change his black pants for sweats and remove this tie from around his neck and this itchy shirt. But he doesn’t have a say in this, it seems, so he shuts his mouth and does as he’s told.

It’s another thirty long and excruciating minutes, most of them he spent pulling at his tie to loosen it a bit and relieve him from this feeling of suffocation, before the doorbell echoes through the house. _Finally._ He thinks to himself because the sooner this masquerade starts, the sooner it ends and the sooner he’s back home in comfortable clothes watching the game he’s missing. So he stands next to his father as his mother opens the door and greets the guests, kissing their cheeks, asking how they’ve been. Even though Scott knows who they are by name and vaguely remembering the adults’ faces from banquets, he can’t place the girl that’s with them, _Tessa_ , their daughter, the one he’s being set up with. She's standing next to her parents in a black dress that hugs her a little too nicely and Scott can't help but let his eyes follow the curves of her body. He knows he shouldn't look at her like that; he doesn't even know her. It's not like he's at a bar where drinks flow, music is loud and bodies are pressed against each others on the dance floor and she's been looking at him for the past twenty minutes as she sips on her drink. She's not asking for that kind of attention; she doesn't want any kind of attention judging by her posture, like she wants to make herself smaller, disappear. He's not even supposed to care about her anyway. He can't deny that she knows how to make a first impression though. Once he comes back to earth and Tessa's father stands in front of him, he shakes the hiss hand, feeling like his is being crushed as strong fingers squeeze it. Then, he kisses her mother's cheeks as she talks about how tall he is now, how much he’s grown since the last time saw him and she takes a second to look at him. He doesn’t know what to do though once he’s in front of her. It’s more awkward than any blind date he’s been on (a few) because there’s no drink he can take a sip from while waiting to find something to say or the right thing to do, no music in the background to at least fill the empty, no waiter to accidentally trip on something, spill pretty much the entirety of the drinks he had on his tray on the girl - he remembers that date a little too well - and bring some action to the evening or anything. She barely looks at him, _great_ , while their parents' eyes are on them, which makes the situation even worse. Now it's his turn to wish he could disappear, not be in this room anymore.

“Hi.” He finally mutters with a little smile. She’s probably as unhappy as he is about this whole situation and that’s the only thing comforting to him at the moment. But then, she looks up at him. That’s when his eyes lock with hers, when he notices how green and deep and gorgeous they are, and he’s taken aback for a second. “Scott.” He adds, holding his hand out to her, which she takes and shakes as their parents are pretending to chit chat but are clearly focused on that first interaction between their children.

“Tessa.” She replies, her voice small as she looks away from him and lets go of his hand. Well, Scott now knows one thing about her, that she isn’t comfortable looking strangers straight in the eyes, the exact opposite of him. 

“Nice to meet you.” He says more out of courtesy than anything else, his tone reflecting his mood, earning him a look from his mother who considers it rude; she hasn’t raised her son to act that way. This meeting isn’t something he wanted to happen and, even though he got lost in her eyes for a second there and he's stared at her a little – something he would never admit though, he isn’t happy to be there, to make small talk with that girl. No matter how pretty she is.

“I don’t want this any more than you do.” He whispers once their parents leave them alone, heading to the living room, and he sees relief wash over her. They at least have that in common, if anything. “So I say we pretend for the night, just so they leave us alone and we never have to see each other again after tonight.” A plan to which she agrees. Great.

After an hour of small talk, during which his mother talk about how great her son is, how he has this scholarship and is now studying at this reputable university – as if any of it matters when it comes to relationships and love – they head to the dining room. He sits at the table knowing full well that the next few hours will be painful, torture to him, and judging by the look on Tessa’s face, she's thinking the same.

_Here we go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone mentioned a arranged marriage AU for these two on twitter and I got inspired. can't find who wrote that tweet anymore but thanks for the idea, whoever you are.
> 
> hope you guys enjoy and if you do, it'd be nice to let me know in the comments.


	2. he's not a magic man or a perfect fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know mom and dad have this story all planned out but I don’t want to play. I don’t want anything to do with this guy. Hell, Jordan, all I know about him is his name and they already see us married with a bunch of kids. How messed up is that?” Tessa is on the verge of tears, this whole thing stressing her out to no end. She’s always tried to make her parents proud, has succeeded so far, but this is asking too much of her.

“You look so good in that dress!” Jordan squeals once Tessa walks out of the bathroom. They’ve been at it for at least an hour now, raiding her closet to find something appropriate for the dinner when she pulled out that dress that was hidden behind all her other clothes. Jordan looked at it as if her prayers had been answered, ordering Tessa to try it cause she wanted to see what it looked like on her. “Can’t believe you don’t wear it more.” It is true, Tessa does look good in that black dress, but that is exactly the opposite of what she is going for. She doesn’t want to please tonight. She doesn’t want this guys, this Scott, to think she’s attractive, to have any kind of hope that this story their parents want for them so badly could actually become true because she’s not looking for that, not tonight, not right now.

“I’m not wearing that dress.” Tessa replies, her tone not letting any place to discussion, which, of course, Jordan doesn’t care about.

“What are you saying, you’re not wearing that dress?” She asks, visibly shocked by that answer. “This guy is going to be totally crazy about you the second he’ll lay his eyes on you.”

Tessa sigh. “That’s exactly what I don’t want. I know mom and dad have this story all planned out but I don’t want to be a part of it. I don’t want anything to do with this guy. Hell, Jordan, all I know about him is his name, and they already see us married with a bunch of kids. How messed up is that?” She is on the verge of tears, this whole thing stressing her out to no end. She’s always tried to make her parents proud, has succeeded so far, but this is asking too much of her. Especially considering how badly her last relationship ended. She’s not ready to date and certainly not ready to become engaged, in a near future, to a man she barely knows. She feels her sisters’ arms wrap around her and she lets go of the tears that she’s held back so well until now.

She dries her tears the moment she hears a knock on the door and the voice of her mother. “I’ll be downstairs in just a minute.” She says loud enough for her to ear before grabbing her makeup bag. _Can’t look like I just cried when meeting the future love of my life_ , she thinks sarcastically. She does some touch up on her makeup before joining her parents who are waiting for her downstairs.

“If Scott doesn’t fall for you right away…” Her mother says upon seeing her, letting her words hang in the air. Of course, the comment brings a light blush to Tessa’s cheeks, which she tries to hide as she simply offers her mother a smile, but also a certain discomfort. She hopes he doesn't.

“Ready to go?” Asks her father, the hand on the door handle. Her parents are obviously more excited for this dinner than she is and she can't help but to roll her eyes when they aren't looking at her.

Tessa slips her heels on and a minute later, the three of them are sitting in their car, heading to the Moir’s. 

The second she’s standing in front of the massive door, she wishes she could turn around and just run away. Her hands are sweaty – which is, you know, really a great thing when making a somewhat good first impression, or at least an okay one – so she wipes them on her dress and, at the same moment, the door opens. Why is she nervous for some dinner she doesn’t even want to be at? She steps inside after her parents, standing by them as Scott’s mother goes greets them all with kisses on the cheek. She offers her, and her husband, a polite smile and turns to look at their son. _Well, she wasn’t expecting that at all._ Tessa finds herself staring at him for a second or two. She has to admit, although she’d never say that out loud, that he’s looking pretty good in that suit. _Wait, what?_ For the split second their eyes connect, she can hear Jordan’s voice in her head, telling her that it might not be as bad as she thought it would be. _Maybe._ She still doesn’t have high expectations for the rest of the evening. Him being somewhat attractive doesn’t mean a thing. She always thought that brains mattered more than appearance. So she steps towards him and introduces herself even though, just like she knows his name, he probably knows hers.

"Nice to meet you." He holds his hand out to her and she takes it, as if she has any other choice when her parents are looking at her, scrutinizing every move she makes, the way she speaks, their interaction. She hates every second of it.

“Nice to meet you too.” She says back, shaking his hand for what seems like a really long moment, before letting it fall back at her side. If she didn’t already hate everything about today, now she is. She can’t even look the guy straight in the eyes. She's really uncomfortable having their parents pretending not to care about them when they're a few feet away, obviously listenin to their conversation and trying to see, from those mere seconds, if this is going to work out. If they only knew that all Tessa wants is to go back home, maybe hang out with Jordan if she’s not out with her boyfriend – who was strangely not found by her parents but still was parents approved – or watch Audrey Hepburn movies that she’s already seen a million times with a bucket of ice cream and her comfiest pajamas. That not being there is also Scott's desire. They'd probably be disappointed.

“I don’t want this any more than you do.” He whispers once their parents leave them alone. What a relief to hear this sentence, to know that he’d probably run away too if he had the opportunity because there is no way she could deal with a guy who really thought this could actually work. “So I say we pretend for the night, just so they leave us alone and we never have to see each other again after tonight.” 

“That’s a good plan. I’m on board.” She says with a nod, feeling the weight she had on her chest all day long suddenly disappear. At least, things are clear between them and they can just do whatever they have to please their parents for the day and tell them, somewhere down the line, that it didn’t work out because of some bullshit reason they’d agree on after a couple of fake meetings.

And with that, they both head to the living room where their parents are waiting for them. She, of course, sit next to Scott at what she deems being a reasonable distance. Wouldn’t want to sit too far from him even though she would be fine with them sitting at both ends of the couch. _You have to make them believe._

“Scott’s a hockey player.” Her mother gloats, visibly proud of her son for doing so well in the league he’s playing. _Great, he's probably full of himself._ She knows she shouldn’t let her prejudices and preconceived ideas get the best of her – after all, leads in ballet companies are often perceived by the public as divas, which she’s not – but she can’t help it. There’s just something about him that tells her he’s that kind of guy. Plus, she's not really interested in hockey so she only half listens to the conversation going on, wishing she could be back at school where no one was bothering her, where she only had to focus on classes and auditions. No time for a boyfriend. That's also a reason she doesn't feel invested in this whole scheme. Even if became her boyfriend - hypothetical situation here - when would they see each other? He's studying in Toronto while she's in Montreal. Not exactly a short or an easy drive. She only comes back to Ontario to see her family on holidays because that's the only time off she truly has. Then again, not the best situation to nurture a relationship. Plus, everyone that knows her could tell you that she's the first in the gym in the morning and the last to leave the studio at night. Some of her classmates even wonder how she has time to do everything she does and keep her grades up. No, right now is not the time for her to think about that.

"Tessa's a ballet dancer." Her mother says, the conversation mostly happening between the parents. She stares at her hands. At the vase that probably costs a fortune standing on the table by the wall. At Scott from time to time, as her mother goes on about how great of a dancer she is, how she's already starred in productions - small ones but productions nonetheless - and how her teachers believe she's going to be the next principal dancer for the National Ballet of Canada. As strange as it seems, in social situations like this one, when she has to be herself and can't hide behind a character, makeup and costume, she hates having all eyes on her. Like it's the case right now. So she plays with her hand and tries not to think about the fact that Scott's looking at her and that she can't figure out the expression on his face. Is he silently judging her, forming thoughts about who she is, just like she did a few minutes ago about him, from that tidbit of information? Did he not know she was aspiring to become the best ballet dancer this country has ever seen? Is he simply surprised to know that about her? Because the pressure they face and the aspirations they have would actually be something they have in common, something the other would understand that most people don't get.

Maybe they're not that different from each other after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the feedback you've given on the first chapter! I didn't expect that but it's really heartwarming to read your comments and see that you are already invested in this story. I hope you liked this chapter as well.
> 
> Also, I'm curious to know if you like the alternating point of view on a situation or of you'd prefer a chapter that combines both of their point of view? It'd be nice if you'd let me know in the comments.
> 
> Just a side note, the next chapters might not come as quickly as this one because i have a lot of school related stuff coming up in the next 3 weeks on top of work so I won't have as much time to write.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	3. landslides and masquerades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the moment she dreads, that they both dread, the stupid dinner. They’re sitting at a table that’s way too big for the six people they are – but not for the gigantic family that is the Moir’s when they all get together for various family gatherings, she just doesn't know that yet – and everything about this dinner screams opulence and showing-off.

There’s nothing great about arranged meetings/dates/whatever you want to call it. Tessa hates them. Being set up by someone who thinks they know what she’s looking for in someone, a friend who believes that they’ve found the perfect match for her but tell her that she’s meeting her date in a shady bar downtown Montreal, it’s not really her thing. Having her parents arrange this meeting isn’t any better. She might love them to death but it’s no different than the blind dates her friends set her up for. It’s as awkward, maybe even more because there’s her parents looking at her, hoping that they truly found a perfect match for her, that she won’t hate them for the rest of her life for already deciding Scott’s the one she’s going to marry.

 _You understand why we’re doing this?_ They asked her the day they set that meeting up. She nodded and it was true, she understood what they were asking of her. She understood that it was a necessity if her family wanted to stay in the upper crowd of the city, of the country. Her father’s company had lost a few big projects for various reasons, ones they never talked to her about, ones they hid from the media, and they needed to form some sort of alliance with another powerful family in order to boost the company again, maybe have them inject some money in a fund that would help Tessa’s father revamp the image of his company, allow him some time to figure something out before he’d need to fire more people than he already did.

Yes, she understands all of that but she has a really hard time playing the game they want her to play. She understands that it’s not as malicious as it sounds, that her father just wants what’s best for his company, but she can’t bring herself to pretend she wants this. She doesn’t want to give it a shot. She might seem like the kind of person who loves money by the way she looks. It is true, she likes having the fortune she has – or should she say had now – because it allows her to dive right into her second passion, which is fashion. It allows her to buy designer clothes, dress well and go on spending spree without caring about the total of her purchase. It is true, she finds some sort of comfort in it but other than for fashion, and the fact that it allows her to frequent some of the most prestigious dance schools in Canada, she doesn’t care for her family’s fortune. She could settle down with some guy from a middle-class family in the suburbs of Montreal, live on a decent salary without inheriting her parents’ fortune and she would be fine with it. That’s the thing her parents don’t seem to understand about her. That she doesn’t necessarily want this life they’ve chosen for her.

Yet, here she is. Here comes the moment she dreads, that they both dread, the stupid dinner. They’re sitting at a table that’s way too big for the six people they are – but not for the gigantic family that is the Moir’s when they all get together for various family gatherings , she just doesn't know that yet – and everything about this dinner screams opulence and showing-off. She keeps quiet though, and pokes at her salad absentmindedly once it’s in front of her, having gone through her soup without saying a word either, listening to whatever their parents are saying. Today seems more of an occasion for them to catch up and talk about their kids rather than for Scott and Tessa to get to know each other. They exchange glances from time to time, roll their eyes at each other whenever their mothers gush about them, try not to laugh because this situation seems so ridiculous to them. They could not be there and that would probably not make any difference.

“So Tessa,” Alma finally asks once they all started digging into their chicken, third course of god knows how many there will be, and Tessa finally looks up from her plate, ”your parents have been telling me that you live in Montreal now.”

She nods in agreement. “Yes. That’s where I go to school.”

“And you like it there?”

“I love it,” she says without hesitation. The city’s become a second home to her. The amount of museum she’s visited in the past two years is astounding and it feels like she’s discovering something new about the city every day. “There’s so much to do. So much culture. It truly is an inspiring city.” She adds, trying not to gush too much about her home away from home. “But there’s nothing like coming back home.” She feels the need to add. Considering that she should probably interact with Scott at some point, she finally looks at him as she speaks. “Have you ever been?”

“Once, I think, when I was a kid.” He replies, not bothering to say anything more. Looks like he’s not going to make it easy for her to play her part. So much for pretending, right? (Truth is he just wants to eat his meal right now. He’s starving.)

“Do you have any memory of it? Favorite place in the city?” She tries to make some kind of small talk and have a conversation going just so her parents won’t be scolding her once she gets back home for not making any effort tonight.

“I don’t really remember any of it. I was so young.” He says between two bites, which she considers as him obviously not wanting to talk.

_Great._

“You don’t remember when we saw the fireworks competition that they hold throughout summer?” His mother asks.

“Fireworks are absolutely breathtaking.” Tessa’s father says. “We watched them one summer when we helped Tessa move to the city. Just for that, son,” Scott tries real hard not to roll his eyes at the nickname, “you should go back. Maybe Tessa could show you around.”

And there is more awkwardness because no, she wouldn’t want to show him around. She could tell him of her favorite spots, but she would let him wander around the city, be his emergency call at last. Anyway, the best way to discover a city, she always said, is to get lost in it. And Montreal has so many hidden gems that you can only discover if you’re not actively looking for them that it would actually be the best thing she could do for him; to let him explore the city on his own.

“Sure.” She replies, ever so polite, a smile gracing her features even though the moment the words escape her mouth, she kind of regrets them.

And to her relief, the conversation turns over to Scott. _Thank God._

“How’s your season going?” Tessa’s dad asks him.

And he seems suddenly so much more interested in the conversation, more comfortable with the whole situation, talking with more eloquence than her.

“It’s going great so far. We’ll most likely make it to the playoffs again this year.”

Tessa barely listens to him ramble about whatever; she doesn’t care about hockey and you’d think she’d know the terms, it being the national sport, but she doesn’t really get what they’re talking about when it gets more about the technical side of the sport and her father get passionate and engrossed in the conversation. It gives her a break and she goes back to finishing the chicken that’s on her plate. She does stare at Scott for a moment though, once she’s done with her food. _He has a really nice jawline._ To her parents, it probably looks as if she’s really into what he’s saying - that’s exactly what she wants them to believe – but she’s just studying his features and starting to think that maybe, just maybe, she could give him a chance. After all, he’s the one who told her that they could figure out a plan to avoid this whole wedding thing without disappointing their parents too much.

Once the dinner is finally over, thank god, their parents are back in the living room, chatting about whatever, stuff Tessa and Scott don’t really care about. “So, the plan.” Scott finally says once he hears his father laugh, sure that no one will hear them. Tessa nods, which he takes as a sign to continue. “Knowing my parents, they’ll want this to happen pretty soon.” Tessa can only agree. She knows her parents will want her with a ring around her finger by the end of the summer.

“The same goes for my parents.” Because there’s urgency on her family’s side. They _need_ to see this happen.

“So I guess we can play their game for a bit.” And Tessa almost looks horrified at this thought. She doesn’t want to spend the whole summer pretending to like Scott. She wants this masquerade to be over soon, not in three months from now. When she doesn’t speak, Scott continues. “We pretend to go on a few dates and when it’s time to pop the question, well you just say you’re not ready or whatever. And that gives us a breather, some time to figure out a better plan.”

It does make sense to play their game for a bit. As cruel as it can be to make them believe, give them hope, it’s the best she can do. It’s going crush her poor father’s heart she knows it, but they can’t force her to marry someone for their own interest, without her having a say in this.

“So…” Scott says after a moment, pulling Tessa out of her internal dilemma. “What do you think?”

“I guess it’s a great plan…” She says, still thinking about it.

“But…” He adds, sensing that she’s not done.

“Nothing.” She replies, which he doesn’t believe.

“I can see in your face that you’re not 100% into it.” He comments and she wonders how he can read her that easily without knowing her. "I don't want to do anything if you're not fully on board."

“Isn’t it just mean to make them believe only to tell them later that it never would’ve happened?”

He barely takes time to think that he replies “Isn’t it just mean to force your kid to marry a complete stranger just because you feel like it?”

As much as she hates admitting it, he’s right.

“Right. Let’s do whatever you said.” She finally lets out with a sigh before they both join their parents in the living room.

The second they sit on the couch, she can tell that it’s a bad idea. She’s a little too aware of her parents’ eyes on her, of how close Scott sits next to her and can’t help but think that the next few weeks are going to be hell. She hates all of this. She knows she’s a bad actress but she’ll have to bring her A game if she wants to be somewhat believable. _Let's get this started._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to apologize for how long i took posting this new chapter. it was my birthday last week and with school, i barely had time to myself. the writer's block didn't help either.
> 
> so i hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, comments are appreciated.


	4. we've got our separate ways in the same direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey.” He simply let out once she picks up. “I was thinking that maybe, if you want-“ he sounds like a teenager asking a girl out for the first time, it’s ridiculous “we could go out for a coffee or something.” He hears her laugh and, as much as he tries to not like her, her laugh sounds like a beautiful melody, something he could play on repeat and never get tired of. _He doesn’t like her._
> 
> (from scott's point of view.)

It’s fifteen past eleven when Scott finally decides to pick up his phone and call her. After the third ring she answers, settling any nerves that he had. Why is he nervous? He doesn’t eve know. It’s not like he’s asking a girl he likes out. No, he can’t say that he likes Tessa. He’s tolerating her more than anything. _For their parents. For the sake of their plan._ They’re civil, texting each other every now and then, when one of them has an idea for their plan, how they could break the news to their parents that nothing’s ever going to happen between the two of them. Other then that, they don’t talk, pretend they do when their parents ask. 

“Hey.” He simply let out once she picks up. “I was thinking that maybe, if you want-“ he sounds like a teenager asking a girl out for the first time, it’s ridiculous “we could go out for a coffee or something.” He hears her laugh and, as much as he tries to not like her, her laugh sounds like a beautiful melody, something he could play on repeat and never get tired of. _He doesn’t like her._

“Yeah, sure.” She replies, still chuckling. He’s a little offended that she’s laughing at him but he has to admit that he did sound ridiculous, more like a kid rather than an adult. “There’s a bistro on Queen street. It’s a really nice place and their food is absolutely delicious.”

“Sound great.” He replies, glad that she picked a place because other than Tim Horton’s and Starbucks, bistros and cafés aren’t really his thing. He’s more of a bar guy but taking a girl out in a bar for a first date or whatever this is, he refuses to consider this a date, isn’t the best idea. He knows from experience that it ends up being a disaster. “Meet you there at three?” He hangs up after she agrees and they say their goodbyes.

He’s there at 3:10 because he’s Scott and he’s late to pretty much everything that isn’t hockey related. “Sorry I’m late.” He says as if she didn’t already know.

“Has no one ever told you that you shouldn’t make a girl wait?” She asks, her tone giving him no clue if she’s joking or if she’s really mad at him for being late. Well, if they’re going to see each other a few times, she better get used to it because everyone who knows Scott knows that he’s never on time. It’s like his brand. You associate him with being late first and foremost.

“Sorry.” He replies a bit sheepishly as he takes the seat in front of her. “Already know what you want?” He is scanning the menu even though he knows he’ll take a coffee with a bit of milk, nothing too fancy nor complicated.

“An almond milk cappuccino.” She tells him and he has to refrain from rolling his eyes. _It’s such a girl drink_ , he thinks.

So he goes to the counter and order both of their drinks, not matter how much Tessa insisted to pay for her own. “I invited you, I’m paying.” Scott simply replies, turning his back to her the next second, not caring for her protestation.

“Thanks.” She says when he comes back to their table a few minutes later and he sets her drink in front of her.

He smiles at her in reply and takes his seat once again. “So, is it a place you frequent a lot?” He asks, after taking a sip of his beverage.

“It is.” She replies as Scott looks at his surroundings for the first time. Everything looks so rustic. Wood tables that have all clearly been crafted by hand, crates on the wall as makeshift shelves and storage space. It’s not an environment in which he would’ve pictured her. He would’ve placed her in one of those fancy coffee shops where drink’s names are impossible five foot long and to pronounce, where there’s flowers on the tables, soft lighting, an aesthetic that isn’t somewhere between cozy cabin in the wood and sugar shack. “It’s my favorite place in the city.” She adds, which takes him aback a little.

“I didn’t know this place but it’s nice.” He admits. “Not really my kind of place but still nice.” It’s not necessary at all to add that bit of information because if he has assumptions about what she likes, dislikes, places she goes to and stuff like that, she must have them as well and she probably already knows that this is not the kind of thing he enjoys. 

“That I guessed.” And there’s a long pause where the both of them sip on their drink. It’s not as awkward as it could be with the faint music in the background filling in the silence.

“So, if this is not your kind of place,” Tessa starts after a few seconds, a minute at most, “what is your kind of place then?” Scott can’t figure out if she asks the question with genuine interest or if she just asks to be polite, to keep the conversation going.

“I prefer bars.” He simply answers, not taking his eyes away from her. “I’m more of a beer drinker than a coffee drinker.” 

“Makes sense.” She says with a nod. He tries to read in her eyes what she means by that but doesn’t dare to ask. 

Another moment of silence falls on them this time a tad more uncomfortable than the previous one. Scott is staring at his coffee cup as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world, trying to find something to say.

She beats him to it though, her voice rising up in the air before he can open his mouth. “And what’s your favorite spot in the city?”

And just like that, they fall into an easy conversation where they get to know each other. He tells her about the rink when he spent most of his days as a child, the place he still goes back to every summer, the one his family is responsible for so he has access to it pretty much whenever he wants to. He talks about his life in Toronto, how university is kicking his ass and he thinks of quitting but the school’s hockey team is the only reason he stays, because they’re doing amazing and he still hopes that someone will notice him, maybe some recruiter for the Leafs or the Marlies, Toronto’s affiliate team in the American Hockey League. He doesn’t go too deep into this topic as he’s noticed it isn’t her favorite and quickly redirects the conversation to her.

She tells him all about Montreal, how she prefers the vibe of the city to Toronto’s, the people she meets in the street greeting her with a smile instead of bumping into her, their head hung low as they’re focused on their phone. She mentions the little bookshops that are organized in churches where she could spend days just sitting on a pew and read little gems that she never would’ve found in a library, goes over all the little things that make Montreal more enjoyable than Toronto. She talks about the school she’s going to, how difficult and competitive it can be some days, especially when they’re putting on a show and every girl wants to be the principal, but how much she loves it there. He sees she’s holding back from talking about it at length because she knows, and it is true, that he doesn’t care about dancing but if he’s honest with himself, which he isn’t, he could listen (and watch) her talk about it for a while. She’s just so passionate the second she’s on that topic. Even without saying it out loud, he knows she loves what she’s doing just by the way her eyes light up the moment she starts talking about it. And for that, for the fire he suddenly sees inside of her, his perception of her start to change. She’s not just some random girl his parents want him to marry. (Even though he’s still convinced that won’t happen.) She’s also a human being, an athlete just like him, someone who understands what it’s like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders, live with this constant pressure that people put on you with their high expectations. She’s probably been given disappointed looks when some day, things don’t go the way they should and also probably felt a shame that truly had no reason to even exist because she did enough. No one seems to get it in his family, how tiring it can be and how difficult it is to carry this weight, but she does. She can relate to his struggle and it’s so good to finally have someone who just gets it, someone who understands without you having to try and describe how you feel when you can’t put words to it.

He looks away from her, apologizing when his phone vibrates. _Are you going to join us for dinner or do you have other plans?_ He quickly looks at the top of his screen, not before rolling his eyes at the wink emoji that’s been carefully added at the end of the message, to see the small numbers indicating that they’ve been at it for over two hours now. “I should probably go back home.” He says after quickly typing his reply, a simple home for dinner, even though he doesn’t want to. Being around Tessa isn’t as bad as he thought it would be and he actually wants to spend more time with her, get to know her a bit better. Who knows, maybe he could get a friend out of this? “My parents are waiting for me.”

He sees her look at her phone as well, checking the time, and nod. “Yeah, I should do that too.” And there comes back the awkward silence as none of them moves.

“It was nice. Today.” Scott finally lets out before pushing his chair back and getting up. 

“It was.” She nods as he puts his cap back on and follows her out of the café, holding the door for her.

“A gentleman.” She comments with a chuckle, the word making him laugh as well.

“Just well-brought-up.” He retorts with a shrug as they come to a stop a few steps away from the café. 

“We should do this again.” The suggestion takes Scott by surprise even though he completely agrees. 

“Yeah. We should.” He nods and smile at her. 

“But next time, I’m paying.” She quickly adds, which again, prompts him to laugh.

“Deal.” His smile is reaching his eyes as he looks at Tessa.

And with that, she turns her back to him. “Can I walk you home?” He asks, when she’s only few steps away from him, standing at the corner of the street where she waits for the signal allowing her to cross it. She turns around and look at him with a smile gracing her features.

“And you say you’re not a gentleman?” She teases before turning her head again to look at the light.

“Should I take this as a yes?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks towards her and quickly finds himself next to her as she crosses the street.

“As I told you, I was well-brought-up.” He repeats as they keep walking, his hands deep in his jeans pockets.

Quickly, they fall back into an easy conversation and before he knows it, they’re in front of her house’s driveway. 

“Looks like you made it home safe and sound.” He lets out after a few seconds of silence, the distant sound of the cars on another street as the only background noise.

“Yeah, thanks for that. Who knows what could’ve happened to me in the three blocks we just walked.” She laughs and his heart flutters a little. Don’t.

“Some psycho could’ve attacked you. Who knows?” He tries to keep a straight face but erupts with laughter a second later.

“Right. I’m lucky you were there to protect me against potential attackers.” 

After a moment, they fall back again in a comfortable silence… Until Scott’s phone rings. There wasn’t a moment but whatever was happening, the both of them staring at each other, was ruined the second the Hockey Night in Canada theme made itself heard.

“Hi, mom. Yes, I’m on my way.” He tells her without letting her the time to make any joke or assumptions as to what he’s doing, why he isn’t home already. “I’ll be there soon.” He adds, rolling his eyes.

“Moms, they never change.” He says out loud, more for himself than for Tessa to hear. 

“Worried something happened to you?”

“Something like that, yeah. I guess we think a bit too much about psychos walking the city streets in the family. It’s in our blood I think.” He jokes as he slips his phone back in his front jeans’ pocket.

“You should go back home then. And be safe. I still owe you a coffee.”

He nods and laughs – he surely didn’t think he would smile and appreciate her company as much as he actually did – before saying goodbye, turning his back to her and heading home.

 _Maybe she could be a friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for the feedback. it truly means a lot to me so keep the comments coming.


	5. i'm not an open book you can riffle through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She details him for a moment, notices how drastically different he looks from the first and only time she saw him. The cap he’s wearing backwards hides most of his hair, except for the ends that flip where it’s not covered, but she can tell there’s no gel in it, that it’s in its natural state, probably just pushed back. His clothes are also a great change from the tux he was wearing; he looks much more relaxed in his jeans and hoodie. _It suits him better_ , she can't help but think.

“You know, you can call him if you want? I get you’re old-fashioned when it comes to romance, but a girl can definitely call a guy first these days.”

Tessa shoots a look at Jordan who’s sitting on the chair right in front of her desk, obviously not please with her comment.

Romance? With Scott? She wants to laugh. No such thing could ever happen. All she wants is to figure a way out of the mess they’re in, how to not break their parents’ heart too much. “First of all, I don’t want to call him.” She retorts almost offended. “Second of all, there’s not romance at all here.” 

“That’s why you’re checking your phone every five minutes and let out a ridiculously loud sign when you realize there’s no new notification?”

Tessa hates her sister right now, hates that they’re breathing the same air and are in the same room. “Why are you even here? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

She grabs her phone for the 30th time in five minutes, as if anything would’ve changed, as if her phone somehow could’ve not rang even though she made sure the ringer was loud enough to hear, when the sound announcing her there’s a new notification fills the room.

“What is he telling you?” Tessa glances once more at her sister who seems particularly keen on annoying the hell out of her today, even though she knows she’s going spill everything out eventually. Because even though Tessa had a diary as a child, a book in which she kept all of her secrets, she also had a sister who kept all of her secret, some kind of backup diary in case she lost the one she could scribble in. One that would give her feedback, even if it were unwanted at times, one that would help her out of situations that didn’t seem to have any way out at the time.

“It’s not even Scott.” She says, rolling her eyes as she quickly taps a reply and hits send.

Exactly seven minutes later, the default ringtone fills up the room and a smile creeps up Tessa’s face.

“Hey!” She answers, signaling Jordan to leave the room, which she does but not before sending Tessa a little smirk accompanied by a wink.

After asking him how he’s doing, more of a reflex than a question she really wants an answer to, he takes the lead of the conversation. “I was thinking that maybe, if you want-“ she tries real hard not to laugh because as nervous as the first guy who ever asked her out when she just turned twelve. “we could go out for a coffee or something.” She pinches her lips together to refrain from bursting laughing and, after a few seconds where she manages to pull herself together, she agrees. After agreeing on a spot, her favorite bistro that is three blocks away from her house, she hangs up and gets ready.

“So, you’re going to meet him?” Jordan’s voice takes her by surprise and Tessa jumps as she hears it.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She exclaims as she looks away from her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. She’s aware it’s past eleven and at such time, normal people are usually up and dressed but she’s one of those who get up as late as possible, hence why she’s still wearing sweatpants and a tank top, both articles of clothing not exactly appropriate for the meeting she’s going to. “To answer your question, yes, I’m going to meet him.” With that, she grabs a pair of jeans from the hanger they’re on and her jeans jacket.

“Are you going full Canadian tuxedo?” Jordan asks, laughing at the thought. No, of course not. That would be a fashion faux pas, the kind Tessa would never make.

“It’s like you don’t know me!” Tessa almost yells, obviously offended by her sister’s words as she heads to her drawer and pulls out a Guns’n’Roses t-shirt.

“That’s more like you.” Jordan says once Tessa walks out of her bathroom, having swapped her cozy clothes for her outfit of the day.

After she puts makeup, which she keeps very light with a little mascara and lipstick, she wanders around the house, waiting for time to tick by until it’s time to leave. She watches whatever show is on HGTV with her mother, criticizes the décor of some houses, saying how she can’t believe someone would paint a whole room orange. She gets up during a break, not able to tear herself away from the television screen until then, and announces that she’s leaving, that she will probably be back in thirty minutes. This was just a short conversation over a coffee after all. Just so they’re not lying straight to their parents’ face when they will tell them that they indeed met but that it didn’t work out, they didn’t connect. 

She gets to the bistro fifteen minutes in advance, a habit that is well ingrained in her, and scrolls through her Instagram feed as she waits for Scott to arrive. She even has time to snap a picture of the venue, carefully select the settings, which must take a good five minutes because she’s a perfectionist in everything she does including posting on social media – she has an aesthetic to keep up with – and post said picture when he finally show up, waving at him the moment their eyes meet. Thank god, messing with that picture has kept her brain from thinking that maybe he had set her up; maybe he didn’t want to meet with her in the end. Because those were thoughts that probably would’ve consumed her mind had she not spent her spare time doing something, anything.

She details him for a moment, notices how drastically different he looks from the first and only time she saw him. The cap he’s wearing backwards hides most of his hair, except for the ends that flip where it’s not covered, but she can tell there’s no gel in it, that it’s in its natural state, probably just pushed back. His clothes are also a great change from the tux he was wearing; he looks much more relaxed in his jeans and hoodie. _It suits him better_ , she can't help but think. Her eyes are still on him, watching his every move when he takes his cap off, sets it down on the table and rakes his head through his hair. When he smiles at her, she returns it in the next second. He looks definitely better now than she remembers.

She mentions that he’s late, something she hates. She always feels like she’s losing her time when she’s waiting on someone. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, as a kid, when they would go on vacation, her father would always make sure they left way in advance _in case anything happens_ and most of the time, nothing happened and they ended up being super early to whatever. She’s gotten accustomed to that, makes her less nervous, less anxious… until people are late. She hopes her words sound more like a joke because she sees the look on his face but maybe her voice is a little too sharp to fully convey that she isn’t really serious because he apologizes. 

Tessa doesn’t have time to say anything to make him feel better that he’s already asking what she wants – his coffee order is dull and she hopes it’s not a reflection of his personality - and, a minute later, before she can even shuffle on her seat, he’s up and on his way to order for the both of them. Protesting doesn’t do any good and he’s deaf to whatever she has to say. She can hear Jordan’s voice in her head. _A gentleman_. And shakes her head.

She watches him as he pours milk and sugar in his cup and walks back to their table. “And one fancy drink for you.” He says as he puts the cup down in front of her. 

She can’t help but laugh. “It’s nothing complicated.” She retorts and he looks at her with a face of disbelief. “I’ve once heard an order for one single cup of coffee last thirty seconds so almond milk cappuccino is relatively simple.” He doesn’t seem to believe her.

Their conversation starts with small talk, something they’re both relatively comfortable with even though there are moments of silence that none of them bother to fill, letting the music take the place as they sip on their respective drink. After thirty minutes of talking to him, Tessa realizes that it’s much easier to talk to him when their parents aren’t there scrutinizing their every move, trying to figure out If they’re getting along, already planning their future wedding. She still doesn’t see marriage as a way their story could end but he’s not the jerk she thought he would be. When he talks about his favorite spot in the city, when she hears him talk about the rink his family own, when he bring up stories from his childhood and his smile reaches his eyes and they crinkle at the corner, she can almost feel her heart melt. Almost. She’s still not interested at all about hockey but she finds herself engrossed in the stories he’s telling her, her coffee almost turned cold when he redirects the conversation on her and she realizes that her cup is still halfway full.

She finishes it by the time he’s done asking her questions, which is exactly when his phone buzzes. She hates talking about herself and prefers being the one to ask questions, yet the conversation seems to flow and her eyes widen the moment she looks at her phone and sees that two hours have already passed since he walked in the building. She tries not to roll her eyes as she sees the texts Jordan has been sending her since she left home. It goes from _How is it going?_ to _What’s taking so long? Are you coming back home tonight or are you leaving with him?_ And there are about 20 more messages in between, one in which she asks for a picture of him because she’s heard about him but has never seen him. 

He announces that he’s heading back home and she nods, telling him that she should do the same yet, she doesn’t move for a full minute. He finally moves and the sound his chair makes as it slides on the floor prompts her to get up as well. She’s not sure if they should say their goodbyes now or wait until they’re outside so she remains silent as he leads her out, holding the door for her. She whispers a small thanks she’s not even sure he heard as she walks by him and stops a few steps away from the door so she’s not blocking the way.

It’s her turn to feel like a teenager walking away from her crush after a first date – even though this wasn’t a date and she definitely doesn’t have a crush on him. They part ways and she had barely taken a few steps that he’s calling out her name. “Can I walk you home?” It takes her by surprise because she didn’t think he would be the kind of guy to do that. It shouldn’t though given how nice and how much of a gentleman he’s been today but no one’s ever offered to walk her home before, except some creep when she walked out of a bar once, so she’s not used to the gesture. It might be because she’s always come off as an independent person who doesn’t need to be protected and who would turn down any offer of this kind but those who think that way clearly don’t know her. She’s actually a sucker for this kind of attention and maybe that’s why her perception of Scott starts to shift. That’s also probably why she lets out a _Yes_ before she can even realize the word has come out of her mouth. And so they walk the three blocks, continuing the conversation they started in the bistro, and she finds herself a little disappointed when she sees her home, knowing that the evening is coming to an end.

It’s after they said goodbye to each other, agreeing to see each other again for a coffee so she can repay him, after he’s turned his back on her and she’s argued with herself that she calls his name. “Scott.” He turns on his heels again and looks at her from a distance. She walks towards him and can see the puzzling look he gives her. “I wanted to ask earlier but completely forgot. You mind if I snap a picture of you? I hate when my screen shows that ugly gray icon when you write me.” It feels a little weird to ask that out of the blue but she forgot to ask him on their first meeting and if she isn’t going to tell Jordan everything about today because she doesn’t want to hear about it for days, she can at least do that for her. Plus, it isn’t a lie what she told him. She has a picture for everyone in her contact book and thinking about it, she's glad she didn't ask him the other day because she'd much rather have a picture of him in casual clothes, something that truly represents him, than a picture of him in a suit.

“Sure.” He replies and makes a goofy face, which of course makes her laugh, as she takes the picture. “I need one of you too though.”

It’s only fair. She stands still, offers him a genuine smile and a second later, it’s done. “We could take one together as well. I like to keep souvenirs from the good times I have.” Then again, the words leave her mouth faster than she desires but then again, he doesn’t say no. He moves to be next to her, wraps an arm around her waist and both of their head lean against each other without they even had to think about it. As if it’s the most natural position. “Thanks.” She says as she slips the phone back in her pocket. A smile is all she gets as an answer and she lets him go this time, watches him as he turns the corner of the street and disappears. She walks back to her place, a stupid smile on her face.

The second she steps inside the house, Jordan’s on her. “How was it? How was he? As pretentious as you thought he would be?” Tessa doesn’t even have the time to kick off her shoes that she’s bombarded with questions.

“Can you give me a minute? Jeez.” She says, interrupting her sister who freezes instantly. It gives Tessa some time to walk up to her bedroom and avoid her parents who are probably in the living room watching t.v. or something as they didn’t seem to hear her come back. She sure she would’ve heard her mother ask how her day went, possibly calling her meeting with Scott a date to which she would’ve answered that it wasn’t a date. (The picture of the both of them on her phone would probably beg to disagree though.)

She sits on her bed as Jordan closes the door behind her. 

“So, tell me everything.” Jordan asks, which is much simpler than throwing fifteen questions at her, once she’s sitting on the bed facing Tessa.

“We talked. It was nice.” Is all Tessa says because what else is there to say? They just spent two hours talking about life. She had a great time and that’s where it ends.

“Come on, Tess. You have to give me more than just that.” Jordan pleas but Tessa doesn’t say more.

“There’s honestly nothing more to say.” She replies, thinking of the picture that’s sitting in her phone. “I got this though.” She says as she pulls the device from her pocket, unlocking it before opening her photo app. She clicks on the picture of Scott, the one where he makes his funny face and hands her phone to her sister.

“Well, that’s very flattering.” Is her only reply. “I guess he’s cute.” She says as she tilts her head, as if that would make any difference, as if she would have a better view of his face.

Tessa remains quiet for a few seconds once her phone is back in her hands. After a slight hesitation, she swipes her finger on the screen where the picture of Scott and her appears. “This one might be a bit better.”

The face on her sister’s face is priceless. “Definitely better. Damn. You never told me that the guy mom and dad want you to marry is that good looking.” She exclaims and Tessa looks any but directly at her sister. “Why were you so against mom and dad’s plan again?” The question makes Tessa roll her eyes.

“You know, looks aren’t the only thing that matters.” She simply states and snatches her phone back from her sister’s hands. “Anyway. That’s Scott and that’s how my day went.”

And with that, she falls back on her bed and starts toying with her phone, a cue for Jordan to leave her alone, changing the horrid grey icon that is associated to Scott’s name for, well she hesitates for a moment before picking the goofy one – because what would Jordan or her parents say if they ever saw her screen with his name and that picture – and locks her phone.

 _All considering, today wasn’t that bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, thank you so much for the feedback on the previous chapters. it's been overwhelming all the love you've given this story. i can't believe it.  
> i hope this chapter wasn't too redundant. I just felt like i needed to tell this encounter from Tessa's POV in a different chapter because I had so much to say from both of their perspective. (especially hers) so I hope you still liked this one and that you're all still in for the ride. (cause there's a lot more to come, I promise.)
> 
> as always, comments are appreciated.


	6. have a little faith in me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn’t need to let him know that she might just wake an hour before her departure time. Even if they’ve only been texting for three days, he’s seen a pattern and has realized that she’s more of a night owl rather than an early riser when he’s seen that the messages he’s sent her before 10 a.m. never got an instant reply unlike the ones he sent her after that time.

The remaining days of the week pass by in a flash. They don’t see each other as Tessa spends most of her days catching up with friends that she barely gets to see since she moved to Montreal. Still, Scott’s never to far, appearing from time to time in her newsfeed on Facebook – mostly in pictures that he’s tagged in, she quickly figures out social media isn’t his thing – but more often just a message text away. They’re not glued to their phone but they still manage to entertain a casual conversation.

The last message she’s received from him was 8 hours ago when her screen flashes and his name pops up.

“ _So, when are you going back to Montreal?_ ” He sends her on Saturday night. She’s just come home from a girl’s night and as much as she likes Montreal, she realizes that she’s missed home more than she cares to admit it and is not ready to go back to her routine just yet.

“ _Tomorrow. Leaving around lunchtime._ ” She quickly types in before heading to the bathroom. She throws her phone on her bed and grabs her pajamas on the way, leaving her phone unattended for a few minutes; just so she can shower and wash away the tiny bit of makeup she’s applied before going out.

When she picks it up again, she has a new notification. She unlocks her screen to read his reply. “ _Guess that doesn’t leave you much time to grab a coffee?_ ” As much as she’d like to settle any debt she as with him before they part way for over a month, she still hasn’t forgotten about that coffee she owes him, her gaze goes from her phone to her unpacked suitcase and her alarm clock, which she stares at for a few seconds as it tells her that it's past midnight and she's technically leaving today, before looking down at her screen again. 

“ _I’m afraid not. Still need to pack._ ” She doesn’t need to let him know that she might just wake an hour before her departure time. Even if they’ve only been texting for three days, he’s seen a pattern and has realized that she’s more of a night owl rather than an early riser when he’s seen that the messages he’s sent her before 10 a.m. never got an instant reply unlike the ones he sent her after that time. “ _But once the semester is over and I’m back in the city, I’m free to go whenever you want._ ”

“ _Well, we’ll figure it out in time then._ ” She reads as she brushes her hair, her phone sitting on her bed next to where she’s sitting.

“ _Yeah._ ” She simply sends before locking the device, plugging it and packing her suitcase. When she looks at her clock, she notices that she just realized her personal best, having packed everything in under twenty-five minutes, and she slips under the covers, gone for the night in a matter of minutes.

It’s exactly 10:27 when she wakes up the following morning. She’s barely made it down the stairs that her mother’s already telling her how much she’s going to miss her. Tessa is used to the goodbyes by now, used to see her mother being a little emotional every time she leaves the house. “I’m not gone yet mom, I’m not leaving until 12:00. Technically, she would’ve gotten time to grab a coffee with Scott but if things were to end up as they did the last time they went out together, she’d be late on her schedule, which comes second on the list of things she hates, right after people who are late. Not surprising considering the two are somehow related. She wants to get to Montreal as soon as possible so she can unpack and fall back into the rhythm of the city, into her routine.

“ _Excited to go back?_ ” She reads between two bites of crêpes. (Her mother insisted on making her something other than poached eggs, knowing far too well that it would be Tessa’s go to food for the upcoming weeks, especially the one before their annual show.)

“ _A little._ ” Even though she wishes she could spend a little more time at home, hang out with her friends a little longer, settle her debt with Scott before she has to go back, she’s still excited to get back to dancing. As ridiculous as it might sound, it felt almost wrong not putting on her pointe shoes and letting herself get carried by the music every morning. “ _How about you?_ ” And just like that, they end up texting back and forth until it’s time for her to leave.

She’s just closed her car’s trunk when her phone buzzes again in her purse. She says her goodbyes to her parents and sister before taking place behind the wheel. Before turning the ignition on, she slips her hand in her purse and grabs her phone, a smile creeping up her face as she reads the most recent message Scott’s sent her. “ _Safe travels. I’m still holding you up for that coffee when you come back._ ” She plugs her phone to the USB cable and in a few seconds later, her oldies playlist is blasting from the speakers and she sings her heart out as she takes the road.

***

“ _We’re in the playoffs!!_ ” He texts her one Friday afternoon, barely few minutes after walking out of the locker room, his hockey bag slung on his shoulder.

“Who are you texting Moir? Your girlfriend? Hoping to get a little reward tonight for scoring the winning goal?” One of the guys teases him as he walks past him, bumping him wish his elbow.

Scott rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone in his jeans’ pocket, not waiting to read Tessa’s answer before walking out of the rink not without a few more calls from his friends who are trying to figure out who he was texting.

“You can at least tell us if she’s hot or not.” Another of the guys chimes in and Scott does his best not to give them attention, pulling his earphones and placing them in his ears, shutting the world off the moment he presses play and the music rises.

She’s stretching when the message pop up on her phone, her class already underway. She only reads it two hours later, after they’re dismissed and she’s grabbed her bag, pulling her phone from it before exiting the local.

“ _That’s awesome! Congrats!_ ” She almost bumps into someone as she types her reply, her eyes focused on the device she’s holding. “Sorry” She mutters as she keeps walking to get out of the school. It’s a good thing this class is the last of the day, that way she doesn’t have to take a shower at school, which she tries to do as infrequently as possible, and she can run back to her apartment.

From that moment, he updates her with the scores from each game and lets her know every time they reach a new milestone (she suddenly found some interest in hockey). Meanwhile, all she does is talk about how her rehearsals are going. It’s the only in her life at the moment, as they’re getting ready to perform for their annual end of the year, well school year that is, show which it’s making her incredibly nervous. She isn’t the principal dancer and, while most of the girls were mad when the names were announced, she’s thankful for it. Her nerves are already at an all time high; she doesn’t even want to think the state she’d be in had she been cast as the lead of their production. Her only way to cope, other than training extra hard to the point where her feet are bleeding, is the occasional messages she sends to Scott. She tries not to get too technical and throw movement names in the conversation when she explains that she struggles with bits and pieces of the choreography she has to learn. She is aware he still does not find any appeal to ballet, and when she does get a little too technical, he doesn’t say a thing even though he doesn’t know what a fouetté is. She’s thankful for him and she finds herself wondering what she would do without him more and more often as the big day approaches. 

“ _I’m sure you’ll get it right._ ” He writes back, some day in April, after she’s told him that there’s less than three weeks until the performance but she’s still struggling with one particular move. She runs her hands through her hair in desperation and let out a loud sigh as she sits on the studio’s floor. Days like this one she wishes her sister were there with her giving her a little pep talk, telling her not to give up, but Tessa knows Jordan’s busy, has a life on her own and can’t always rearrange her schedule to match Tessa’s. There’s also the fact that it’s close to midnight and everyone she knows is still asleep. There’s just Scott keeping her company. 

He should probably be asleep too but his phone lights up his room a split second before he closes his eyes and he knows it’s Tessa who is texting him without even having to look at the screen. Who else would shoot him a message this late at night? No one else, that’s who, so he reaches for his phone, not moving from under the covers. He rolls onto his back and for the next twenty minutes, he’s talking to her, trying to reassure her the best he can. 

It’s when she notices that he hasn’t said anything in the last five minutes that she locks her phone, throws it in her bag and heads back to her apartment complex. “ _Thanks._ ” She still sends once she’s inside the building, hoping the notification won’t wake him up. (It doesn’t.)

The next morning, she wakes up to a message on her screen, one that makes her smile from ear to ear. “ _Always._ ” She reads first thing in the morning, her usual grumpy face replaced by a smile before she’s even taken a sip of coffee, which is, for anyone who knows Tessa, unusual.

Jordan would probably call that being in love. Tessa would argue that it’s just nice words from a friend that calm her nerves. Because she guesses she can safely assume that’s what they are now, friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to see you all enjoy this story guys. Your comments make me so happy. I never thought someone would get invested in but it's amazing to know that you like what I wrote so far.
> 
> This chapter feels more like a filler and I apologize for that. Still hope you like it though. Let me know in the comments. I promise there's more action coming up though it might not come up in the upcoming week as it's my final week and I have papers i've neglected to write this story. So I need to get it together and focus on that a bit. But I promise I'm still invested in this story and will always come back to it as soon as I can.


	7. i'll never be the same now that i know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stares at her. Can’t help it. Details her profile almost as if he wants to etch this picture in his mind for the rest of his life. The angles of her face, the shape of her nose. The green of her eyes that he can barely see from that angle but that he knows well now, having looked into them for over an hour now. The curve of her lips he tries not to dwell on, but still, for a fleeting moment, wonders how they would feel pressed against his.

It’s the big day. Game 7. The one that will crown a team, and it’s nerve-wracking. Scott is used to the pressure but this is something else entirely. It’s the last game of the season. Since he woke up, he got thirty-six messages. His phone buzzes. Make that thirty-seven.

“ _Hey! I know today is your big day. Just wanted to say good luck and hope you win this game You deserve it._ ” But how she wished she could be there, cheering on him for real, screaming with the supporters, but she has her own obligations. 

He can’t help the smile that forms once he’s done reading the message. It might be short but it is such a sweet gesture.

He doesn’t believe in faith or a higher power that guides everyone’s lives. She doesn’t either but she knows that life has a way of giving you exactly the opposite of what you want at times, like today. By some strange coincidence, game 7 happens to be the same night as Tessa’s performance. _Of course._

“ _Thanks! Break a leg. I’m sure you’ll kill it and be the star of the night._ ” The comment makes her laugh. She’s not the one to seek for attention. Actually, she prefers to stay far from the spotlight so thinking that she could steal the show seems a little, scratch that, it seems completely ridiculous to her. There are girls that are so much better than her, girls she consider even better than the principal that will surely steal the show. Not her. _Anyway, it’s rare that someone other than the principal catches anyone’s attention unless you’re looking for them_ , she thinks.

That’s the thing about Tessa. On the outside, she seems self-assured, confident, fierce, the kind of person you wish to be, who isn’t afraid of anything. The truth is that she has an incredibly low self-esteem. She doubts everything she does. Proof is that she almost didn’t audition to get a spot in this school, thinking that she wasn’t good enough, that amongst the hundreds of applications, she couldn’t stand out and wouldn’t be one of the few girls they’d pick. She should know better by now than to play it safe, that reaching for what we think is impossible might turn the impossible into something that’s possible. 

The show is absolute magic; the crowd is on their feet the moment the lights turn black, cheering for every single dancer who just gave their all of the stage. The wave of relief that submerges Tessa in that moment is indescribable. All the pressure she put oh herself over the past few weeks washes away in an instant and for that alone, she feels like she could cry. If she keeps her emotions in check for the following hour, she still let out a loud scream, along with the other girls, once they’re backstage, where they’re sure no one can hear them. 

“We did it!” Exclaims the principal dancer who gets engulfed in a hug. The competitiveness and all the bad blood that might’ve stemmed from the announcement of the cast has vanished and they’re back to being one big family, so supportive of one another, happy for everyone’s success.

541 miles away, the show that is offered to the spectators is drastically different. There’s crosscheck, fistfights, hot blood and the supporters love every second of it. The game is a tight one, the score 1-1 with less two minutes left to the third period. A bad move from the visiting team sends one of their players to the penalty box. Scott’s team is in the zone. It’s their chance to take the lead for the first time in the game and possibly seal the issue of this finale. His team wins the face-off and they pass the puck for the next seven seconds when Scott manages to get away from the player who’s only mission is to stay next to him. There’s only a second-long window and his teammate takes it. The puck is on his stick for a split second before it’s flying towards the net. There’s barely room for it to get pass the goalie but by some miracle, it does, the shot as precise as it could be, as it needed to be. The goal light flashes as the siren screams, the crowd on its feet, his teammates almost piling up on him. One more minute left and they’re crowned champions. The other team trades their goalie for a sixth player, hoping they can force the overtime. For the remaining seconds, the crowd stays on their feet, they chant, encouraging their beloved team and, when the siren announcing the end of the period fills the arena, the team collectively screams and throw their gloves off. Everyone pats Scott on the head, congratulating him for the spectacular goal he scored. They pile up, kind of hugging each other as they all scream of happiness. _And the first star of the game, Scott Moir._ In the locker room, the air is electric, everyone still high from the win. After taking a shower and putting on fresh clothes, Scott grabs his phone and scrolls through his contacts to find her name under the letter V. 

“ _Holy shit T, we won!_ ” he types in quickly. “ _Hope everything went well for you even though I’m sure it did. Can’t wait to hear all about it._ ” His phone is back in his bag, which he swings on his shoulder before walking out of the room to find his parents and brothers who all congratulate him. There’s a little party – read here the biggest party – at his parents’ place and it feels like half the town is there. For about an hour, Scott chats with everyone, accepts all the love and praise he gets but he quickly wishes he could just leave and go to bed once the adrenaline wears off.

“ _So proud of you! I knew you could do it! You tell me all about it once I get home._ ” She replies with what seems like a million emojis. Happy faces, gold medals and trophies all line up one after the other.

“We’re going out.” One of the girls announces and Tessa looks up from her phone. “You coming?” The yawn she can’t hide gives everyone an answer to the question but Tessa still shakes her head.

“I think I’m going to head back home and call it a night. I’m exhausted.” She replies. A second later, she hears her friends boo her, telling her that it’s their night, the time to celebrate and let go after all the effort they put into this. She agrees, they’re right, but she rather spends the night in a bubble bath with a glass of wine and watch whatever classic movie she feels like watching, hidden under blankets before heading to bed. It may not be much fun but her legs are killing her and she knows that going to whatever bar and dancing the night away isn’t going to help ease the slight pain she feels. “No, really, I’m tired and I have to get back home tomorrow so I want to have a good night sleep.” She retorts and, seeing as serious as she is, they let her go, all hug her, wish her a great summer, say that they already can’t wait to see her back next semester before they’re off.

***

She’s lying in her bed, half asleep, the ride from Montreal and the hour and a half she spent stuck in traffic as she arrived to Toronto was more exhausting than she thought it would be. She smiles to herself when she sees the screen of her phone light up. Even without looking, she knows it’s him. It can’t be the girls from school because, well, she’s not that close to most of them and she’s told the ones she considers good friends that she made it home safe and sound and that was it. It’s not her friends from home because she told them all that she’d text them first to set something up, which she decided could wait until tomorrow. Jordan’s probably busy with her family so that leaves only one option.

“ _When are you coming back home?_ ” It’s ten past six when the message shows up on her phone. 

He figured she probably spent the night with her classmates, celebrating the success of their performance, which could only mean that she slept in today and that she probably spent most of her day either packing or enjoying her first day of freedom in over a month. He guessed she’s want to spend one last time with her friends from Montreal before everyone went their separate ways for the summer, hence why he’s only texting her now.

“ _I got back today._ ”

“ _Does that mean we can settle our debt soon?_ ” She can’t help the smile that forms on her lips.

Sitting at the dinning table, Scott’s mom scolds him like he’s still five years old. 

“Scott, what have I told you about using your cellphone while we’re eating?” He rolls his eyes. He knows it’s not polite to not engage in the conversation that’s going on and pretty much ignore his parents but he’s not that interested in listening to them saying the same things they’ve been saying over the past god knows how many years.

“I’m talking to Tessa.” It’s not a lie and he knows it does the trick. His parents are more than happy to know he’s still in touch with her and it keeps them believing that something could happen between the two of them.

“Can’t it wait after dinner?” His mother asks nicely.

“ _It does, yes. Just let me know when and where and I’ll be there._ ” 

And he obliges, sliding his phone back in his jeans pocket.

***

The following morning, she’s sitting in a Starbucks, a double-double waiting for him and her usual almond milk cappuccino in front of her.

“And to think I made an effort to get up early this morning when I could’ve spelt twenty more minutes.” She says jokingly once he’s sitting in front of her. 

He rolls his eyes and can’t help but laugh. 

“You should’ve known I’d be a few minutes late.” He retorts, which she agrees. It is true that she should know by now that when meeting with Scott, she doesn’t need to be there ahead of time. Just being on time will do the trick, as he’ll sure be late.

“Right. One day I might get used to it.” I guessed you’d take the usual.”

“Thanks.” He replies with a nod before lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip.

“So, that’s your spot for a coffee?” She asks, taking a sip of her own. _Not the best, but it’ll do_ , she thinks as she sets her cup back on the table.

“Yeah. I never drink them here, I’m always on the run so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence but she knows he means he doesn’t have time to sit down in a nice little bistro somewhere and look at the people passing by. 

“So, tell me all about that big win!” She says enthusiastically. Never in her life had she been excited to talk about hockey. Someone would say that makes her a bad Canadian but she doesn’t care. 

“It was the greatest game we’ve ever played.” She can see the way her eyes light up and even though two days have passed, there’s still a fire burning inside of him from that moment he got to lift the cup. He’s almost bouncing on his seat and Tessa can’t help but think that this is adorable. He goes on to tell her all about his victory goal, his first star, the cup he gets to keep for a couple days, and she listens attentively to every word she says, sharing his excitement and pride. “But enough talking about me.” He stops himself and take a sip of his coffee that’s probably gone cold somewhere between him recounting the moment he lifted the cup on the ice and the one where he came back home to the biggest party he’s ever seen. And God knows he’s been to huge parties before, the ones thrown by the team always ended up in open houses. “Tell me all about the show. Did you wow any ballet critic? Anyone from the National Ballet asked you to join yet?”

She can’t help but laugh because even though he can’t find it in himself to care about specific things related to ballet, he still remembers that she told him there were critics in the attendance and that they could, at any moment, decide to give one of the dancers a shot at the auditions for the National Ballet. And that it’s a big deal. 

“Not this year.” She says with a little pout although it’s nothing surprising. It wasn’t an important role she was playing - Scott would argue that every role is important, just as every member of a team is important in hockey - and she knows that she isn’t strong enough technically to get through the whole audition process. She still has so much work to do. “It’s usually the principal that gets these opportunities.” She adds, to which he quickly replies “ _Bullshit._ ” because well, the principal isn’t necessarily the best dancer on the stage. “Anyway. Even if I felt like throwing up all day long because of how nervous I was, the show was really great. The moment I stepped on stage, all my nerves were gone. I don’t remember anything from the actual performance because I was so focused on was I was doing, so lost in the role I was playing but I remember snapping out of it the moment the crowd started to cheer.” And Scott listens to her with this stupid grin on his face, like he’s so proud of her, which he is.

“I’m sure you were amazing. You think they filmed it?” He knows no one did, people don’t have their phones out during shows like that, it’s not a hockey game, but he still hopes to get even just a glimpse of her performance because maybe, he thinks, seeing her do her thing would make him appreciate it a bit more. Maybe then he would understand why she loves it so much.

“I am pretty positive there’s no footage. The only thing there might be is pictures.” Is it disappointment she can read on his face? Is he suddenly interested in ballet? The thought that it’s just because he wants to see _her_ dance doesn’t cross her mind and it’s something he end up saying out loud.

“I would’ve loved to see you perform.” And this time, she gets the hint.

“Maybe I could do a special performance, one night only, where I reprise my role. Just for you.” She says in what she calls her diva voice. Like she’s so important and she’s doing him a huge favor by offering to show him what her life has been all about these past few months.

“I would be honored to have that opportunity.” It is the truth. He can only assume that playing a part outside of the context of the show must be difficult and knows that she must be exhausted from all the work she’s put in the past months to get to that show. Dancing that part again is probably the last thing she wants.

He’s so solemn when speaking that her heart stops beating for a second. 

“I just need a couple days to recover but then I should be able to do that for you.”

“You really don’t have to, you know. Some things in life are ephemeral and if you’re not there to witness them the moment they happen, you missed your chance. It’s no big deal.” He means it. He doesn’t want to force her to do anything she wouldn’t want to do just to please him.

“It was my idea to recreate my performance for you.” She says and he doesn’t have any choice other than to agree.

“Right.” Still, he feels bad that she’d ask her body to do that again when all she should do is rest. But it’s her decision and he knows; she’s stubborn. Nothing he could ever say would make her chance her mind.

Indistinct voices from the other customers and the ambient music fill the silence that comfortably settles between the two of them. She stares outside for a moment, lost in her thoughts and in contemplation. The day’s so beautiful and everyone just seems so happy, which is drastically different than the last time she was in the city, when the weather was cold and people were grumpy; too many kids spending their spring break in the city, let loose without any kind of surveillance. _This_ , she thinks, _is the Toronto that I love and missed_.

He stares at her. Can’t help it. Details her profile almost as if he wants to etch this picture in his mind for the rest of his life. The angles of her face, the shape of her nose. The green of her eyes that he can barely see from that angle but that he knows well now, having looked into them for over an hour now. The curve of her lips he tries not to dwell on, but still, for a fleeting moment, wonders how they would feel pressed against his. _But he’s not in love._ She just looks unfairly stunning in this light and he knows he told himself he would never love her but the way his hand hitches when he notices a strand of hair stuck on her cheek, turning into a fist on his lap, an attempt to resist the urge to brush his finger against her skin just to tuck it away behind her ears tells a whole other story. _Still not in love._

“Has anyone filmed that winning goal?” He hasn’t noticed she had turned around to look at him and he feels his cheek burn as he realizes she most certainly caught him stare at her. “The goal you scored in the finale.” She clarifies a moment later as she notices he still hasn’t said a word.

God, he wishes he could just melt into the ground, disappear. 

“Probably. My parents must have it recorded somewhere. Or someone may have posted it on Facebook.” He shrugs, taking deep breaths, trying to bring his face back to its usual color instead of that light shade of pink it is now. If she notices the embarrassment Scott feels like he’s dying from, she doesn’t say a thing and he’s thankful for that. 

“I’d like to see it some day.” Still, she can’t help the corner of her mouth to curve upwards and she keeps her lips pressed against one another to suppress her laughter. “You know, to judge by myself if it’s as spectacular as you say it is.” She’s clearly making fun of him right now and he kind of hates her for that but still, nods and tries to keep his cool.

Part of him thinks that they should’ve said their goodbyes when the silence fell between them minutes ago just so he would have avoided feeling the way he feels right now, like a fool. But he’s so glad to still be there because he gets to hear her laugh again. That beautiful melody fills his ears again and the thought of recording it crosses his mind, just so he could listen to it again when they’re going their separate ways again in the fall. _They’re just friends._

“I could send it to you if I find it.” He finally blurts, his mouth still dry.

“I’d appreciate that.” She smiles at him, that soft smile that makes his heart melt a little. Why does she have to be _her_?

Their coffees are long done when she ends his torture. 

“Shall we get out of here?”

Thank God. That’s all he wants now; get out of here and forget the past minutes; they fell like hours. He nods in response and grabs his cup, throwing it away on his way out. 

“Any plans for the day?” He asks her as he slips his hands in his jeans pockets.

“Doing nothing, relaxing.” Words she hasn’t said in over six months. Sure, she had two weeks off for the holidays and there was spring break but they’re never as relaxing and calm as they should be. She wants to see as many people as she can before leaving them again and her days are always packed.

“Makes sense.” He selfishly wants to ask her to spend the day with him. He would be fine doing nothing, sitting on a park bench, soaking up the sun and enjoying this beautiful day with her. A few hours spent in a busy coffee shop clearly not enough for him right now. Still, he keeps quiet. They have the whole summer to themselves after all, right?

“It was nice seeing you again.” She says and he’s the one to lean in for a hug, careful not to crush her in his embrace.

“It was.” He whispers in her ear. 

She can feel a shiver run through her spine, from her lower back all the way up to her neck, holds him a little tighter, a little longer and, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, her head finds the crook of his neck. She breathes him in, she vows herself to remember how she feels right now with his arms wrapped around her, and her body pressed against his. _Just friends. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!! I forgot I have 2 hours a day to work on this on my way to school and back home. As a result, you get this a week earlier than i planned to post it.
> 
> Hope you're not too disappointed he didn't get to surprise her on opening night.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. If you do, i'd appreciate if you could leave a comment or you can find me on twitter @musikxaddict/tumblr @you-knock-me-out. I always love reading your impressions, thoughts on the story and where it's going.


	8. you’ve made exceptions to your rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music comes to a halt several minutes later; that’s when he realizes he stopped breathing. He quickly catches his breath; the music fills the room again and Tessa is back doing her thing. He can tell by the way she’s never laid eyes on him, that she’s in character; that she’s not in this room anymore but somewhere else, a place he wishes he could see, wishes he could visit, be there with her.

“ _Any plans for the day?_ ” Her message almost comes as a surprise. They haven’t been in touch much since she came back. He decided to give her some space, the time she needed to first of all, wind down from her semester, and second, enjoy some time alone with her family without him bugging her every hour or so (more like every five minute) with a text message.

“ _Not until tonight._ ” She can see her mom eyeing her from the other side on the room where she’s sitting on her recliner, glasses on the tip of her nose as she reads Pride & Prejudice for quite possibly the millionth time. No wonder Tessa loves it so much.

“What’s so funny?” Kate asks, looking over her reading glasses at her daughter who’s looking at her phone screen with this giant smile on her face.

“Nothing.” Tessa replies, not bothering looking up from her phone as she types a reply.

“ _I heard there’s a special performance of Swan Lake today._ ” He didn’t expect her to actually do it, to remember it but it seems she did and Scott is suddenly filled with excitement at the thought of seeing Tessa in her element.

“ _Really? When and where?_ ” As if he’d ever be interested in seeing the actual ballet. She’s glad though that he’s playing along. She would’ve felt terribly stupid otherwise. 

“ _Starts in an hour. Corner of Waterloo and Dufferin. There’s an abandoned warehouse._ ” Sure, the location doesn’t seem ideal and he’ll probably thing her crazy for wanting to dance in an abandoned warehouse.

“ _Is this some kind of experimental art, a twist on a classic? Or are you a serial killer who’s trying to lure me there just to add me to your victims list?_ ” She can’t help but roll her eyes as she reads his reply. 

“ _Yeah, totally. I’ll just say it right away. I am going to kill you tonight._ ” Lucky she added the rolling eyes emoji or else, anyone reading over his shoulder would probably think he’s talking to a psychopath.

“ _At least I know what to expect. See you then. And please don’t make me suffer too much._ ” She never thought she could joke like that with someone, let alone him, without him thinking that’s she’s some kind of freak. For a second there, she was afraid he wouldn’t answer her texts, wouldn’t play along but she is glad he did.

She shuts her phone, changes into a sports bra and thighs, the clothes she feels most comfortable and free in, throwing on an oversized cropped top and slipping her shoes on before leaving the house, her bag on her shoulder. Once she gets to her studio, which looks way better once you enter the building that what the façade could let you think, she slips out of her shirt and switches her running shoes for her pointes shoes. Her hair is quickly thrown into a messy bun at the top of her head, preventing her hair from falling in front of her eyes, and she starts stretching. 

She’s at the barre when she hears the door close with a thud, her attention instantly shifting to Scott who walks in, looking at him through the mirrors on the wall.

“This place definitely looks better from the inside.” He comments, taking in his surroundings as he walks towards her. The light brown sprung wood floor, the barre that’s not even half the length of the room, the wall of mirrors that only reflects the white wall on the other side, the pictures of what he guesses is various well known dancers hung on the wall. She must get some inspiration and motivation from watching them. The single chair that sit at another corner of the room. The small furniture, tucked away in the farthest corner, which obviously contains the audio system. It’s definitely less creepy than it looked when he walked past the building. 

She laughs as she pulls her leg away from the barre and turns around to look at him properly.

“Looks less like I’m going to be murdered from here.” He adds, which sends her in a fit of laughter and he _loves_ it. The melodic sound bounces off the walls and comes back to him again and again, his heart seeming to grow a bit bigger every time.

“Luring you into a false sense of safety.” She simply replies wish a shrug, still laughing a little at how ridiculous they are being right now. As if she could kill him.

“I see. You thought of everything.” It’s his turn to laugh at the whole situation. “Do I get to watch you dance before I die though?” It’s why he came here and what he’s waited for, ever since she made him the offer. So it’s about damn time he thinks and it would be a shame if he didn’t get to see her do her thing.

“Yes, I’m not that cruel. There’s a chair over there,” she motions to the corner of the room “you can sit on. Sorry I don’t have anything more comfortable for you. I’m not really used to have visitors here.”

“Really?” He looks at her as if it was surprising.

“I don’t like having people watch me.” The moment the sentence leaves her lips; she realizes she’s not making any sense. “I mean, when I’m performing, on a stage, with other people, I don’t mind. Just not when I’m rehearsing or training.” She adds in hope that he’ll understand what she means.

“Makes sense.” He says as he pulls the chair away from the corner, setting it down in the middle of the room by the wall opposite to the one filled with mirrors. 

Meanwhile, she grabs her iPod, plugs it to the surround system and picks the music she’s been dancing to for weeks now. She’s got enough time to go to the middle of the room and stay in position for a few seconds before it’s her cue. Her movements flow with such grace and fluidity that for a second there, Scott’s almost moved by her performance. ( _He is, he just won’t admit it._ ) She twirls and jumps and spins, telling this story that’s known by everyone and throughout her performance, Scott’s eyes remain on her, captivated as they follow her across the room.

The music comes to a halt several minutes later; that’s when he realizes he stopped breathing. He quickly catches his breath; the music fills the room again and Tessa is back doing her thing. He can tell by the way she’s never laid eyes on him, that she’s in character; that she’s not in this room anymore but somewhere else, a place he wishes he could see, wishes he could visit, be there with her. When the music stops and she strikes her final pause, the music echoes through the room and it takes Scott a few seconds before he’s able to do anything. Rising up to his feet, he claps and congratulates her.

“That was beautiful.” She feels her cheeks turning a light shade of pink and lowers her head as she tries to hide it. “You might’ve just made me a fan of ballet.” Or maybe just a fan of hers. He doesn’t know yet if he could stand watching a full production, but he knows he could’ve watched her for hours on end. Something in her performance, maybe it was the expression of her face or the fact that he was able to read her like an open book, something he’s never been able to do so far, pulled him in and refused to let him go until it was over.

She looks at him with the biggest smile on her face. “Thank you.” She mutters, walking up to the stereo system to unplug her phone. “So I can just call you next time I want to go see a ballet?” She asks, a little incredulous. She doesn’t know why exactly but she has a hard time picturing him sit still for a few hours, watching dancers tell a story through movement. Maybe because she’s right and he can’t sit still for three hours no matter the situation.

“I’m not there yet” He replies with a chuckle as he walks up to her. He keeps for himself the fact that, even if he’s not up to see any full performance, he’d see her in anything if the opportunity ever arose.

“One day.” She says, almost wishfully, as if she’s made it her mission, throwing her shirt back on.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He watches her as she takes off her ballet shoes, throws them in her bag, and slips her running shoes back on. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” He’s leaning against the wall when she stands up and grabs her bag, swinging it over her shoulder.

“Don’t have any.” She says on her way out. “What about you?”

“I’m probably going to the rink to train for a bit before I hang out with some friends tonight.” He says, holding the door for her, waiting for her to lock it before they start walking. “Other than that, nothing.”

Her eyes light up. “Could I come with you?”

“To the rink?” It’s his turn to be surprised.

“Yeah. You’ve seen me to my thing, I’d like to see you do yours.” She says with a shrug, trying to sound as casual as possible even though she’s a little exited at the though of watching him be on the ice, in his element. If he brings the same amount of passion onto the ice as he does when talking about what he loves most, he must put on a wonderful show.

“Well, it’s just practice, but yeah. Why not?” He smiles at her as they head to her place so she can drop her things off and take a quick shower.

“Ready to go?” She asks once she’s back in the living room, now wearing a pair of jeans and white Rolling Stones t-shirt under a black leather vest, her hair still a little wet cascading on her shoulders. 

“I am if you are.” He stands up and follows her outside. 

After a quick stop to his place so he could grab his hockey equipment, which is really just his skates, his stick and a couple pucks, they head to the rink. She takes a seat in the stands, watches him lace his skates and, in a matter of seconds, he’s on the ice. She stares in awe even though he doesn’t do anything that impressive. Just seeing him skate so freely without falling kind of amazes her. It’s been a while since she put on skates on and as weird as it might sound, her balance when she is on blades is way off, definitely not the same thing as having both feet flat on solid ground. So when he starts doing more complicated things, like playing with the puck or just doing tricks, her eyes widen and even if he hasn’t been the only person on the ice, her gaze would’ve been focused on him alone. It is like watching a magic show, wondering how he is able to do all of this.

She can’t help but cheer when he lifts the puck on the toe of his stick, throw it in the air before hitting it like it he’s playing baseball and it meets the back of the net. Playing the game, he does a little celebration, kneeling as he pretends to shoot an arrow, his stick becoming the bow.

“Is that what you do when you score?” She asks loud enough for him to hear. He stops by the boards and she walks down the stairs to meet him.

“Yeah, that’s my thing. Not the best, but it’s not too flamboyant. I like to keep it simple, minimalistic.” He replies with a shrug. 

“Classic, I like it.” She looks at him, a smile on her face.

“So, you’re having a good time?” He’s pretty sure the answer will be negative. He knows just how boring it is to watch someone train, being once confined to the sidelines when he was sick. All he wanted to do was jump on the ice and join his teammates. He wanted to have fun too.

“Yeah, I am.” She’s being completely honest, no matter what he believes, what he thinks. She’s truly having a great time just watching him do what he loves most.

“Want to join me?” Seeing her shake her head vehemently as if that was the worst thing he could ask of her makes him laugh a little. Little does he know it is.

“No way.” She’s still shaking her head and he can’t help but laugh at how intent she is on not skating.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” After all, every Canadian should love to skate. It should be in her blood to enjoy being on the ice and take any opportunity she has to do so.

“There’s nothing fun with standing on tiny blades and falling with every glide.” She’s ashamed that her ability to skate isn’t better. It’s not like she never had the opportunity to practice. Her family went skating at least a few times every winter; her friends and she made sure that they did too once the gigantic outdoor rink was open in the Old-Port, something that would sure become a tradition every semester, still she feels so insecure standing on skates that she never stops holding on to the boards.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.” And he looks at her with those eyes, with that face that makes it so hard for her to say now.

Next thing she knows, she’s wearing skates and holding on to the boards for dear life, Scott standing right next to her. It takes everything in her to let go of the boards when he holds his hand out for her to take.

“I promise I won’t let you fall.” His voice is so soft and his eyes, focused on her, are inviting her to trust him.

So she does. Her knuckles, white from holding on too tightly, get their color back only for a second until she finds something else to hold, Scott’s hand.

“You can let go of the boards.” He says as she hesitantly strokes the ice a few times, taking tiny steps. 

She feels like a child who’s learning to walk when he stands in front of her, holding both of her hands, teaching her how to properly skate. Shouldn’t she know how to by now? It’s the stuff you’d teach a three years old who’s barely able to walk, not a young adult who’s a dancer and should have quite a good balance.

“See? You’ve got it.” And just as he says that, her toe pick gets stuck in the ice and she falls forward. But of course, he’s there to catch her, just as he promised he would. 

“Are you alright?” He asks as she steadies herself, holding onto his arms for more stability.

“Yes.” She realizes in that moment how close he is. All she can see is the warm hazel from his eyes as they stare directly into hers. She probably stops breathing for a second, or a few, because her breath itches in her throat. “I’m fine.” She’s not. Her heart is racing, she’s feeling a bit dizzy and he’s to close to her for comfort. She tries to look anywhere but at him, which is a monumental fail because her eyes, for some reason, always go back to his lips.

The thought crosses his mind as his gaze drop a little and he’s looking at her lips. He could kiss her right now. With no one watching, no one around to tell, who would know? His hands have moved from where they were holding her arms to her waist, making sure she’s steady and that he can hold her if she falls again. It would be the easiest thing to pull her closer to him, to close the gap there is between them. To pretend she’s not a girl he’s only met once but a close friend he’s had feeling for forever. To give away to the temptation and admit that his parents were maybe right when they told him that he’d like her, that she’d be good for him. 

_But he doesn’t._

_Neither does she._

Instead, she clears her throat and lets go of him. 

“I think that’s enough for today.” She says even though she’s been on the ice for a whole ten minutes, fifteen tops. She doesn’t want whatever just happened to happen again for fear of not sticking to the plan they made, the one where she’s not giddy from his proximity, where not even a silver of herself kind of hopes that he’ll be the first to make a move and kiss her. How can she even want that when she barely knows the guy? Sure, they talked at length over text message and one could assume from reading their exchanges that they, in fact, know each other pretty well, but today is the first day they’re spending more than just a few hours together and she shouldn't want to kiss him as badly as she does.

Tessa can hear Jordan’s voice telling her that you can’t control your feelings, especially not when that feeling is love, but she quickly shakes it away. _She is not in love with Scott Moir._

Scott reluctantly lets go of Tessa, instantly feeling the lack of her as his arms fall on either side of his body. And there’s this awkwardness that’s unwelcomed. A distance between them, more than just a physical one, which he wishes he could just erase but he knows it’s better to just let things be the way they are. He stands there as he watches her skate back to the boards, step off the ice and trade her skates for her shoes.

“It wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?” It’s a poor attempt at trying to diffuse the tension and he knows by how focused she is as she unties the laces of her skates, frustrated at the knot that she tries so desperately to untie, that he’s not doing a really good job at it. He doesn’t know what else to say or what to do. 

He can’t pick up what she’s murmuring as she’s slipping on her shoes and it’s probably better that way.

Tessa is so frustrated with herself. She swore she would never fall for him, told Jordan times and times again that “ _there’s not way I’m following mom and dad’s plan. I can’t and won’t end up with this guy_.” And yet, here she is, thinking of why she got off the ice as quickly as she could, never minding the potential fall – it’s a miracle, really that she didn’t fall. Why she had to run away from him as if she just put her hand too close to a flame and got burned. She tries to ignore the way her whole body tingles and aches for his touch again, even if it’s only his hand in hers. _She is absolutely not in love with Scott Moir._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm definitely the worst with focusing on what's important. took a break from studying and that's what you get.
> 
> as always, hope you enjoy, please leave comments if you feel like it. i always love reading what you have to say. and you can find me on twitter @musikxaddict if you want to talk.


	9. our hearts are heavy burdens we shouldn’t have to bear alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the first time in days that they talk to each other face-to-face. The first time he can look in her eyes, see the expression on her face; that she’s as uncomfortable as he is, that she wishes she could be anywhere but here. He knows because he feels the same.

For a few days, it feels like they’re back to square one. She’s barely texting him, her replies mostly monosyllabic and he doesn’t make any effort to keep the conversation going. He hates every passing minute more than the last. He can’t just call her and tell her they need to talk about whatever it was that happened at the rink, can he? That would be an option, he knows, he just can’t bring himself to press that green button. He doesn’t know if it’s the fear of hearing her voice on the other end of the line of the lack of it that scares him the most, makes him back up every time he’s almost there, almost calling her, almost ready to try and move past the awkwardness that emerged between them since that day at the rink.

Two knocks on the door, the distinct sound of his father wanting to talk to him, pulls him from his thoughts and once again, he erases the numbers he’s entered in his phone, throwing it on his bed without a care.

“Yeah?” He looks at the door, as his father as he walks in and a knot forms in the pit of his stomach when he sees the little box he’s holding in his hands. He knows too well what it means. With life happening, he almost forgot that the mission Tessa and he were on was to unite two of the most powerful and rich families of the province, save the empires that are the Virtue’s and the Moir’s. A loud sigh pass his lips and he doesn’t even try to hide is dissatisfaction.

“I think it’s time.” Joe says as he hands the box to his son once he’s by the side of his bed.

Scott sits up and takes said box, open it and hopes that his face doesn’t give too much away. The ring sits there, beautiful. He can’t deny that it’s a pretty ring. Gold band, big rock sitting on top, the kind of ring you see in movies, the one that girls flash to their friends as they compare the size of the diamond each with their own, trying to figure out whose fiancé makes more money and whose fiancé has more to apologize for. And that’s exactly the problem. _It’s not something Tessa would wear_ , he thinks. At least, he can’t picture her with a rock as big as that one on her hand. The only jewellery he’s seen her wear has always been delicate, refined, a perfect reflection of the person that she is. Not that flamboyant thing that screams to the world _look at me I’m getting married_. 

“Tonight?” He knows the answer but he’s slightly masochistic and needs a confirmation that tonight’s the night they’re both going to disappoint their parents, break their mothers’ hearts and all that jazz.

“Well, you’ve known each other for four months now. Isn’t that long enough?”

 _Well, maybe when you were a kid_ , he thinks, _four months were enough to fall in love and know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with that person but in this day and age, things have changed a bit_. He keeps quiet, with that at least, and shrugs.

“I guess.”

With a pat on the back, his dad affirms that he’s proud of him, he knows he’s talking about this whole marriage thing more than anything else in that moment, before leaving him alone to stare at a ring that most definitely won’t end up on Tessa’s finger. Not tonight, not ever.

He grabs his phone and snaps a picture of the ring and sends it to her.

“ _We’re sealing out faith tonight._ ” The caption reads, a few skulls emojis accompanying the message.

“ _Thanks for allowing me some time to get mentally prepared to break my mother and father’s heart._ ” 

The laugh that escapes his mouth is somewhat bittersweet. He knows his parents will be broken-hearted as well and so disappointed in the both of them, but even as months have passed, he still can’t believe that arranged weddings are a thing and that they even just thought of putting him through this.

“ _No problem. We’re in this together._ ” 

The day goes on, Scott’s parents preparing everything for the dinner while he tries to mentally prepare himself for their moment, and he just knows that they’re excited. They don’t say it out loud, but he knows by the looks his mother gives him, the little nods from his father, that they can’t wait for him to ask her the big question. And the knot inside Scott’s stomach seems bigger and tighter as the hours tick by. He wishes he could find it in him to tell them the truth, that he is not going to marry Tessa, but every time he wants to finally come clean, he sees the look in their eyes, the hope, and he can’t do it.

When the doorbell rings, he straightens his jacket and adopts a better posture. He needs to play the part, just a little bit longer. Just a few more minutes, a couple hours and they have a break.

“Hi.”

It’s the first time in days that they talk to each other face-to-face. The first time he can look in her eyes, see the expression on her face; that she’s as uncomfortable as he is, that she wishes she could be anywhere but here. He knows because he feels the same.

He pulls her into a hug because he doesn’t know what else to do. The situation is already awkward as it is, he doesn’t want to make it worse by handing out his and for her to shake, a gesture he deems way too formal for the two of them, for the situation. Not doing anything would also be an option but their parents’ eyes are on them and after all this time, he knows that there’s this expectation that they should be good friends, not feel weird doing as little as hugging each other. The moment she wraps her arms around him, he feels a weight being lift off his shoulders.

 _He missed her_.

***

Dinner goes smoothly, as he’s sure everyone hoped it would go. The conversation stays casual, as if to not give away anything of what’s been planned for the evening. They get through every course of the meal and everything goes perfectly until they’re leaving the dinning room and making their way to the living room. Scott’s parents stay by his side and tell him encouraging words, which only make him feel worst. He can’t believe what he’s about to do. The ring in his picket seems to weight a thousand pounds now and he slows his pace, trying to avoid the unavoidable.

He sits on the couch next to Tessa, not too close because they still haven’t talked about what happened at the rink, as they haven’t had a chance to, not too far not to bring any suspicion. While one of his hand sits on his lap, the other is by his side. He’s fully aware that if he just moved it slightly, he could touch Tessa’s, not even hold it. Just let his fingers brush against it so he knows she’s still there and that she knows he isn’t going anywhere, the lack of her in the past few days affecting him way more than he’s willing to admit.

He sees her looking at him and even though they don’t speak as much as they probably should, most of their conversation happens in the form of looks they give each other.

 _Are you ready?_ He asks with a little smile.

I guess so. She replies, her face contorting into a grimace more than a smile.

And he gets down on one knee right in front of her. There’s no preamble, no passionate or cheesy declaration of his unadulterated and unconditional love. That’s not how this should happen.

The room falls silent as they wait for him to say something.

“Tessa Jane McCormick Virtue, will you marry me?” His heart is racing as he looks at her, her hand in front of her face as she pretends to be slightly surprised by the proposal.

She takes forever to answer and even though Scott can’t see most of his family, he knows what their faces must look like. It’s a good thing he’s not the one facing them. He doesn’t think he could stand it. Maybe that’s why she keeps her eyes on him.

“I…” She pauses and his heart stops beating for a second. “I can’t. Not now. I mean, we barely know each other.” A blatant lie because she probably knows him at least as well, if not better, than his lifelong friends. “I think we need a little more time.” He sees her look around, probably gauging everyone’s reaction, and knows that she’s trying to find the right words to soften the blow. He knows from the way she stiffens and tears welling up in her eyes that she’s looked at her parents. He wishes he could say something to make it better, because obviously, she was under a lot of pressure – _more than he can guess_ – and in this situation, she is the one who made their parents’ plan crash, not him. She’s the one who said no, while he played his part, did all he had to do. The blame’s on her now and he kind of hates himself for putting her through that, the wrath that will undoubtedly follow.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should’ve waited. It’s a little too fast.” He says closing the box and putting it back in his pants’ pocket. 

And there’s this awkward silence that fills the room, maybe it was just for a few seconds but it felt like agonizing minutes, broken only when Tessa excuses herself and leaves the living room. It only takes a few seconds for him to follow.

“Tess?” He asks as he knocks on the door.

“Go away.”

A sigh passes his lips as he leans against the bathroom’s doorframe.

“I’m not going anywhere. Certainly not going back to them right now.”

Because whatever she feels, he also feels albeit at a lesser lever. The handle moves and the door is open a few seconds later, revealing a crying Tessa. He doesn’t say a word, simply opens his arms and, the moment she’s against him, wraps them around her frame.

“You should’ve seen everyone’s faces.” Her voice is muffled as her face is buried in his chest and he feels her shoulder rise and fall with every sob that shakes her body. “The moment I spoke – “

“I know.” He replies, one of his hands leaving her back to run through her hair in a soothing motion while the other holds her tighter.

“How can I ever face them again?”

He wishes he had an answer to give but he doesn’t know. He doesn't even know how he will be able to look at his parents again, betraying them the way he did.

“You won’t be alone. We’re in this together, remember?”

He looks at her when she pulls away, his hands now on both sides of her face, and gently wipes the tears away from her cheeks and under her eyes.

“Together. Right.”

He gives her an encouraging smile befoer he lets her freshen up, heading back to the living room where everyone is waiting for them afterwards. Again, the room falls silent the moment they walk in. They take their places on the seats they left and, thankfully, the conversations that were well underway were picked up where they were left and soon enough, it was as if the incident never happened. A semblance of normalcy.

“With your performance, I guess they’re going to cut us some slack now. Good job by the way.” He says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood and make her at least smile, which seems to work as the corners of her mouth go upwards, forming something that vaguely looks like a smile.

She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head, a wave of relief flooding him as he knows that Tessa, _his_ Tessa, the one who can’t help but roll her eyes at pretty much everything he says and does – whether it’s because she’s annoyed or amused, he can’t always tell – is back. A smile dances on his lips as his hand slides in hers, their fingers tangled. _Together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys it took so long for me to update but I was trying to focus on school and the exams. Now that everything is over, I can get back to writing and will definitely update this story more consistently and more often.
> 
> This chapter is quite short but I don't want to be redundant as next chapter will be Tessa's pov from that day and I have more to say from her perspective than from his.
> 
> As always, I appreciate every comment, whether it's letting me know if you enjoyed the update or not, which I hope you did, or what you think will happen next.


	10. champagne’s for celebrating, i’ll have a martini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do we really have to go?” She asks as they head towards the car, Tessa trailing behind her parents. She really doesn’t want to see Scott again. She’s not ready for that, just as she isn’t ready for the proposal and the nightmare that will inevitably ensue. She doesn’t need an answer from her parents; the look her father gives her through the rear-view mirror is enough.

Four days, one hour and seventeen minutes. That’s how much time has passed since Tessa ran out of the rink; almost tripping on her own feet on her way out. The exact amount of time since she last spoke to Scott. She’s definitely not proud of herself and most of her time has been spent hating herself, criticizing herself for her actions, trying to figure out a way she could’ve handled things better. Nothing really soothes her though. She’s considered sending Scott a text message to apologize but deemed it too impersonal. She didn’t want to meet him in person because she new it meant talking about what happened and that wasn’t something she wanted to do. So here she is, lying in her bed, staring at the screen of her phone as if a miracle will happen, as if he’ll text her first, ask for an explanation.

The message she receives isn’t what she was expecting. On her phone screen, she sees the picture of a ring resting on a velvet background. She’s thankful she’s alone because no one can see her jaw drop or analyze the way her whole body tense, her hands start shaking or how her face suddenly seems paler that it usually is.

Her fingers type the words before she can even think about it. _Tell me this is a joke._ She quickly erases the sentence. _Is that the ring you’re planning on giving me?_ It's not the right thing to say either and so she deletes it once again. It’s not that she doesn’t think it’s pretty; it’s just way too flashy and flamboyant for her, not really her style. The band in itself it cute, delicate, thin, golden, but the rock that sits on top is just too much.

“ _Thanks for allowing me some time to get mentally prepared to break my mother and father’s heart._ ” She settles on as she sends her message.

If she had close to no nerves about the dinner – in fact, she almost forgot that they had dinner at the Moir’s – her stomach is all twisted now and she feels like throwing up. Blasting some music as she gets ready, putting on a green dress that she bought a few days before and creating a natural and minimalistic look with her makeup, does nothing to calm her. She still can’t help but think of the ring, goes back to that message Scott sent her even though the sight of it terrifies her. She tries to come up with a prepared speech, something that she can learn by heart, recite after Scott asks for her hand; words that she can carefully choose to break the news to them and break their heart in the most sensible way possible, minimize the casualties, but nothing seems right.

“Tessa, are you ready?” She hears her father calling from downstairs. A look at the clock on her nightstand tells her that it’s time to leave, a sigh passing her lips as she walk out the door and joins her parents who are waiting for her.

“Do we really have to go?” She asks as they head towards the car, Tessa trailing behind her parents. She really doesn’t want to see Scott again. She’s not ready for that, just as she isn’t ready for the proposal and the nightmare that will inevitably ensue. She doesn’t need an answer from her parents; the look her father gives her through the rear-view mirror is enough.

She puts on he best fake smile once they arrive at the Moir’s place, greeting Scott’s parents before turning to him. There it is, the moment she dreads. She stays still as she’s facing him, unsure of the next step to make. She’s somewhat thankful that he’s the first one to make a move, even though it makes her slightly uncomfortable when he wraps his arms around her. The feeling only lasts a millisecond and the next; she’s got her arms around him and she’s breathing him in, her face buried in his neck.

“Hi,” she whispers back, her breath warm against his skin, before she pulls away to look at him, a little smile on her face just to keep up appearances. 

She wishes she weren’t so aware that their parents’ eyes are focused on them, as they were the first time they both met, but alas, she is, and it feels like her heart is beating out of her chest. She quickly looks down when Scott’s eyes find hers, full of questions she can’t give him answers for, hoping that her parents didn’t notice the obvious awkwardness there is between the two.

Thankfully, no one seems to notice and, as usual, there’s small talk before everyone gathers around the table in the dinning room. The hours they spend eating and chatting are an absolute nightmare to her. She can’t stop thinking about the ring he probably has in the pocket of his pants, the moment he’s going to get down on one knee and finally utter the question everyone seems to be waiting for, the moment she’s going to say that yes, she wants to marry him. _Except she doesn’t._

Throughout the dinner, she keeps glancing at Scott, her years begging him to tell her when it’s going to happen so she doesn’t need to stress over as much as she does, so she can expect it and anticipate it instead of thinking that it’s happening right now every time he moves.

Although he doesn’t answer her silent question, his hand still finds hers under the table and he gives it a little squeeze, the gesture reassuring her a little. She tries to tell herself that everything’s going to be all right, that her parents won’t be disappointed in her; that they’ll understand, but she knows it’s not what will happen. She can already picture the scene in her head and suddenly, she’s not hungry anymore, picking at her food more than she’s eating it.

“Are you okay?” His inquisitive eyes ask her as he tilts his head slightly. 

“Yes.” She replies with the subtlest nod she can give him, a smile painted on her face. He doesn’t need to worry about her. He probably has enough to think about, she doesn’t want to be another burden on his shoulders. 

She joins whatever conversation is going on, trying to keep her mind from thinking too much about the proposal, which is a failed attempt, as if she can’t focus on anything else. 

Tessa is thankful when dinner is finally over and everyone gets up from his or her seat. It means that it’s getting closer to the end of the night and that soon enough, she’ll go back home, crash in her bed and be left alone for a while. It’s all she’s asking for right now.

But the night is not over and they all gather again in the living room. She realizes at this moment that, except for the bathroom, she doesn’t even know what any of the other rooms in the house are. She can’t even say if Scott still has a room in here or not, can’t tell where his former bedroom, if it’s gone, was.

“Better get this over with,” Scott whispers close enough to her ear that she’s the only one to hear. She tries not to think about the way her whole body shivers as his breath caress her skin; now is not the time.

A subtle nod from her is all he needs to get down on one knee and pop the question. It should be easy, shouldn’t it, to say no, to let the words fall out of her mouth like a cascade as she’d explain the reasons why she can’t marry him. Tell her parents that it’s much too soon, that they need more time. She wants to say all of that but the words get stuck in her throat. She doesn’t know how long she stays still, her mouth open but no sound coming out. Long enough for her to see her parents’ faces slowly lose their composure, see their smile fading as they realize what should follow. Still, she can see a little flicker of hope somewhere in their eyes.

“I…” She can’t help but think of her parents’ reaction when they’ll be alone with her, can picture her father telling her how she’s ruined the family a little too well. God, the ride home will be a nightmare. She thinks of the people who will lose their jobs because she couldn’t say yes. Families that will lose one source of revenues. Single parents who will have a hard time to put food on the table. She could say yes. It would be as easy as saying no, right? Both words are monosyllabic after all. She could say yes, a smile painted on her face; pretend that it’s the best day of her life but she can’t. It’s not how she envisioned the whole situation to go. The proposal she dreamed of would’ve been intimate, a moment to share with her lover alone, and not in front of both their families. It’s a battle between what she wants and what she feels is the right thing to do. She’s always done what was asked of her, what everyone wanted. So many times, she went against her better judgment to please people around her. This time though, with the thing that would define the rest of her life, she wants to be in control. 

She looks down at Scott and for a second, thinks she can almost see hope in his eyes as well. It’s stupid, can’t be real. They both agreed they would never get married, that this was just a stupid idea from their parents and that they wouldn’t play their game. 

“I can’t,” she finally blurts out, her lips quivering, overwhelmed by so many contradicting emotions. Now that she finally managed to speak, she can’t stop herself. She tries real hard to explain, to her parents especially, that now is not the time, that this isn’t a forever no. She tries to give them the hope she’s sure they lost now, just so they’re not too devastated, in vain. Her father can’t even look at her anymore and she’s pretty sure her mother is on the verge of tears. And so is she.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles before jumping off the couch and running to the bathroom. She hears footsteps, Scott, but keeps going until she’s locked herself in. She grabs tissues and in a matter of seconds, tears are rolling down her cheeks and uncontrollable sobs shake her body, so much that she has to sit on the toilet in order not to fall on the floor. That would just be pathetic. 

She tries to ignore the knock on the door, Scott calling her name but she knows him, knows that he’ll insist for her to either let him in or at least talk to him through the door. Just as she knows far too well that he will sit, his back against the door, until she gives him an answer, just like one of those clichés in romantic comedies. She reluctantly gets up after somewhat composing herself and whipping the tears from under her eyes. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror on her way to the door. God I look terrible. When she opens the door, Scott straightens up and she tries really hard not to cry the moment her eyes meet his. His open arms are an invitation she can’t refuses and she holds onto him for dear life, wrinkling and wetting his shirt, as she’s once again shaken up by sobs, instinctively nuzzling her head in the crook of his neck. His clothes might be ruined but she doesn’t care. If he wanted to keep them intact, he shouldn’t have offered his shoulder for her to cry on.

“Their faces, they all went from happy to disappointed.” She tries to articulate, her voice shaking and the words often cut by sobs. It’s a wonder he can even figure out what she’s saying. “I’ve never seen my parents look at me that way.

She wants to tell him about the dozens of people that will lose her job because she said no. She really wants to but the words get caught in her throat as soon as she tries to say them. Instead, she stays in his arms, crying what seems to be all the tears her body can hold and Scott doesn’t say anything. She’s thankful for his silence, for his presence, for his hand running through her hair, his arms around her. She can’t tell how long they stay like that, hidden in the bathroom, her holding onto him for dear life, him holding her like he’s afraid she’s going to fall into pieces if he lets go.

“It’s going to be alright. They’ll get over it easily,” he says after a moment, when her body has finally stopped shaking. Still, she doesn’t move, only shakes her head as an answer. She knows her parents won’t hold grudges for too long but there’s everything else that he doesn’t know, that she can’t just spill out here and now because it’s definitely not the time. Causing another scene and adding more drama to the evening is not something she wants. 

It could be minutes, or hours for all she knows – it’s almost a wonder no one came looking out for them, before they finally get out of the bathroom and make their way back to the living room. Still, it feels too soon. She was just starting to feel better there, in Scott’s embrace, with his hand running through her hair, his voice low, soft, calming but then he slowly pulled away and suggested they’d get back so she followed him.

All eyes are on them the second they step in the room and she wants nothing more than to melt into the floor, disappear, fly to the other side of the earth, change her name so everyone forgets about her. She closes her eyes a few seconds only to open them to the cold reality that things unfortunately don’t work that way, that she can’t just wish for this to vanish and it becoming true. So she takes her place on the couch, trying to ignore the way everyone is looking at them, at her, and how much it weighs on her shoulders. Her breath is still a bit shaky when the room lights up again, everyone going back to their conversations. There, she feels it again, the tears pricking her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. She’s hated every minute of this goddamn dinner and she loathes every single second of the evening.

No one seems to pay attention to them, which is understandable after she ruined the future of everyone in this room and the one of dozens of people who are strangers to her but must be close to his dad. She remains quiet, even when his hand brushes against hers, his pinky hooked onto hers like a silent promise he’s making to her. You’re not alone.

The hours seem to go so slowly as they keep chatting, talking about the most mundane thing. It’s a relief for Tessa, in a way, because it’s like everyone has forgotten about the incident. More like the absolute disaster but thinking about it that way will only make her cry again. The weight on her shoulder slowly disappear as minutes tick by and, by the time they called it a night and she’s out the door, she feels that she can finally breathe again.

Her father turns on the radio the second he starts the engine and if it weren’t for some classic rock songs providing an ambient music, the ride back home would’ve been silent. She doesn’t which one would’ve been worst though, her parents lecturing her or the silent treatment they’ve given her. The look her father gives her through the rearview mirror doesn’t really help the relief the uneasiness she’s feeling. The second the car stop in front of their house, she runs inside and head straight to her room. She doesn’t want to hear what they have to say; she knows they have a lot and that no matter what, it can wait for another day because the damage’s done and she won’t give in to what they want.

“Tessa.” She ignores her mother’s voice, turns on her radio instead to cover the sound.

“ _Are you alright?_ ” The message comes in, unexpected, but still manages to make her smile. She might not want to marry Scott but she has to admit that she’s glad he’s in her life. Her parents definitely could’ve chosen someone way worse to match her with.

“ _Yeah. Doing my best to avoid the talk._ ” It’s going to come eventually and it might be stupid to delay the inevitable but she’s been on a rollercoaster all day long and she’s not ready to go on another ride. “Did your parents say anything? Like how disappointed they are in me or how I ruined everything?”

“ _None of that. They are a little disappointed but, like your parents, I guess they were waiting to see us married, were hoping we’d fall madly in love and all that jazz._ ” He keeps quiet about how his mother also added that she’s just a bit sad because they look cute together, that she’s never seen her son as happy as he is when he gets a text from her. _She doesn’t need to know._

She can’t help the sigh that passes her lips. If it were her only parents that she disappointed. 

“ _Anyway. All I can do now is go to sleep and hope that everyone has forgotten about it tomorrow._ ” She sends as the three dots indication that he’s writing something pop on her screen. 

They disappear in a second.

“ _Right._ ” is all that shows up on her screen. 

For a moment, she thinks of asking what he was going to write but if he wanted to write it, he still would’ve done it.

“ _Goodnight. Thanks for everything._ ”

“ _No problem. Goodnight._ ” 

She locks her phone but it lights up a second later.

“ _And Tess, don’t worry about what happened tonight. It’s all going to be alright._ ”

She manages to fall asleep, a smile on her face and her heart and mind a little lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys,
> 
> i'm sorry it took me this long to post a new chapter. i've been job hunting and enjoying my first few days of vacations over the past week so my mind was not really into writing mode. 
> 
> i still hope, as always, that you enjoy this new update.
> 
> comments and thoughts are always appreciated and i want to reiterate how grateful i am for your support and kind words on this story. they really mean a lot.


	11. i'll never be the same now that i know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think we need to talk.” Her father says when she’s looking at them.
> 
> Sitting in his truck Scott honks and she’s thankful for him once again.
> 
> “I don’t have time. Scott’s waiting for me.” And she doesn’t wait for their reaction as she walks out the door, letting it slam behind her as she heads straight for the passenger side of his truck.
> 
> “I almost didn’t escape the talk.” She says first thing as she’s fastening her seatbelt.
> 
> “But there I was, your knight in shining armor, saving you for that terrible faith.” If he manages to say this with all the seriousness in the world, she’s laughing wholeheartedly next to him, shaking her head.
> 
> “What would I do without you?” She asks as dramatically as she can between two fits of laughter. Not convincing at all.
> 
> “Don’t know.” He replies, still laughing as he leads them to his favorite breakfast spot in the city. “You’d probably lead a miserable life.”

It’s just over past ten when her phone vibrates. She opens her eyes just long enough to see where her phone is and answers without even looking who’s calling her.

“Morning T. Hope you’re all dressed up cause I’m taking you out.” And he knows far too well that she isn’t dressed up, that she’s barely awake.

“Who calls people at this hour? Don’t you know Sunday mornings are meant for sleeping in.” She mumbles, her voice still groggy, as she runs a hand in her tangled hair, wincing whenever she untangles a knot with her fingers.

“Someone who wants you to avoid getting the talk first thing in the morning.”

And the memories of last night come back in a flash, hitting her like a ton of brick. If his plan was to make her forget about it, it clearly didn’t work.

“Thanks for reminding me, for a second I almost forgot about it.” She retorts playfully, which he mustn’t think is as funny as she does because he doesn’t laugh and remains silent for a moment. “Where are we going?”

She gets out of bed, her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder as she looks at the clothes in her closet. 

The question is legitimate because what they’re going to do will determine her outfit. Should she put on a dress and heels or can she simply throw sweats and Rolling Stones t-shirt on and call that her outfit of the day?

“It’s a surprise.” She rolls her eyes even though she had a feeling he wouldn’t give her a straight answer.

“Can you at least tell me if I’ll be out of place in sweats and a t-shirt?” She tries, hoping that he can at least give her a hint.

“Who wears sweats in the summer?” He sounds almost offended through his laugh, as if that was the biggest faux pas she could make. Still, she can picture him as his voice echoes through the phone, see the way his eyes crinkle, a smile painted on his features and for a moment, she almost forgets that she’s mad at him for waking her up so early when all she wanted to do was stay in bed.

“Well, I do.” She retorts and thinks of all the girls she hangs out with, the ones that also wear sweats in the summer when they don’t feel like making an effort to dress up, when they’re staying at home and don’t plan on leaving the comfort of their bed or their couch.

“Considering it’s already hot as hell, you’d be better off with shorts but the choice is yours.” He finally says and she settles on a pair of denim shorts to complete her outfit.

When she’s ready, her hair brushed and pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, she runs down the stairs, walks past her parents who call her name, stopping her in her tracks.

“I think we need to talk.” Her father says when she’s looking at them.

Sitting in his truck Scott honks and she’s thankful for him once again.

“I don’t have time. Scott’s waiting for me.”

And she doesn’t wait for their reaction as she walks out the door, letting it slam behind her as she heads straight for the passenger side of his truck.

“I almost didn’t escape the talk.” She says first thing as she’s fastening her seatbelt.

“But there I was, your knight in shining armor, saving you for that terrible faith.” 

If he manages to say this with all the seriousness in the world, she’s laughing wholeheartedly next to him, shaking her head.

“What would I do without you?” She asks as dramatically as she can between two fits of laughter. Not convincing at all.

“Don’t know.” He replies, still laughing as he leads them to his favorite breakfast spot in the city. “You’d probably lead a miserable life.” 

She rolls her eyes and lean against her seat, her head turned so she can look at him. For a moment there, she gets lost in contemplation, hoping he’s too focused on the road to notice her staring at him as she details his features; that strand of hair falling on his forehead, the shape of his nose, the way his lips move as he’s humming to whatever song is playing on the radio, some country tune that she doesn’t know. A smile dances on her lips as she thinks that this is definitely better than having a conversation with her parents.

Time must've flown by and, distracted as she was, she didn't notice because before she knows it, he turns to look at her after killing the engine.

“You’ll see. This is the best breakfast place in town.”

She turns her head to look by the window to see the façade of the restaurant and for a moment, she doubts his words. Her suspicion dissipates though the second she walks in, the décor clearly not a reflection of the outside appearance of the building. It’s one of those rustic chic places, with wood everywhere, the lighting dim; it almost feels like she’s in a cozy chalet more than in a restaurant. The waitress assigns them to a table and Tessa barely flips through the menu that her choice is made.

“Already know what you’re going to eat?” Scott asks when he’s looked up from his menu.

“I’ll stick with a classic. Poached eggs.”

“I should’ve known.” He laughs. _Of course, she’ll order poached eggs. No need to even look at the menu._

He knows better and waits for her to at least have taken a few sips of coffee before diving into a conversation, making sure to never talk about what happened the day before. They stay on safe topics for the hour and a half that they spend in the restaurant. He talks about a party that he went to two weeks ago, about that goal he scored in a friendly hockey game he played with his friends, about how his truck still needs some work but it’s almost as he wants it to be. And she listens intently, with genuine interest, a smile on her face as she sees a little spark, a little flame dance in his eyes. His passion for everything, big or small, will always be one of her favorite things about him. The way he speaks about the things and the people he loves, she could listen to him for hours.

She talks about the show she saw last week, how great it was and how much it moved her, talks about the principal, how much she wishes she could dance the say she did, about her friends who tried to set her up with some dude and how terribly the date went, how full of himself the dude was and how he was more interested in the waitress than he was in her. If there’s a change in his attitude the second she mentions her date, she doesn’t seem to notice and go on, talking about it in details because she’s still not over it.

He stiffens a little bit the second says that she had dinner with Mark, which is ridiculous because it’s not like there’s anything going on between the Tessa and him. He knows that he has no right to feel whatever it is that he’s feeling right now – something he won’t name but is obviously jealousy – just because she went on a date, yet he hates this guy he knows nothing about. Just because he had dinner with her, spent an evening with her, sitting across the table of a nice restaurant from the smartest, funniest, most interesting and beautiful person Scott has ever met, and obviously didn’t care about her. 

“Well, he’s an idiot.” He says between two bites of his breakfast. “If I were him, I at least would’ve been a decent human being and listened to you and not eye the waitress all dinner long. The least you can do is pretend to be interested.”

She doesn’t say a thing; just shrugs as she keeps devouring her poached eggs.

“Well, to his defense, the waitress was really pretty.”

He rolls his eyes and he can’t control the words that come out of his mouth next, her lack of confidence baffling.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s fucking stupid – “ It’s the first time she’s heard him swear and there’s something about the way the word rolls off his tongue that does things to her, “because he has you all to himself and he’s not even paying attention. Does he know how many guys would kill for that chance?”

Tessa shakes her head and chuckles nervously before looking down at her plate, suddenly finding some interest in her eggs and toasts as she tries to hide the blush that rises to her cheeks. 

“Pretty sure that number is low.” She mumbles, looking everywhere but at him because she can feel his stare.

And it’s his turn to let out a chuckle and shake his head.

“What?” She asks, finally daring to look into his eyes. There’s something that she can’t, more like she doesn’t want to, name and that makes her heart skip a beat.

“You don’t see yourself clearly.” He simply says, holding her gaze until she breaks contact again, finishing the last of her breakfast.

“Whatever.” She hates being the center of attention, especially in that kind of discussion, even more when she’s having that discussion with Scott and he’s complimenting her and saying nice things like that to her. She won’t admit it but it makes her heart grow ten times and burst out with joy. For some reasons, compliments mean a whole lot more coming from him than they do from anyone else.

Of course, he insists on paying for their breakfast because I invited you so I should pay but she’s quicker to pull the money from her wallet than he is.

“Better luck next time.” She laughs, sticking her tongue out at him.

He looks at her as she’s getting up ever so gracefully, can’t help but think that the sight of her as she is right now, happy, relaxed and a little flustered, is quite possibly the best thing to witness, definitely better than what he saw the previous day.

And even after a few months, he still thinks that her laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world.

If he only planned to take her to breakfast as a way to change her mind for a while and help her avoid what he knows will be an unpleasant conversation with her parents, he has not planned anything special for the rest of the day.

“I don’t want to go back home yet.” She says as he’s driving her back to her place.

“Who says you’re going home?” She looks at him, as he’s turning left instead of right, which he should’ve if his plan has been to take her home, and she can’t help but smile.

“You’re the best.” She detaches her gaze from him to look outside the window as the city passes them by.

It takes her by surprise when she feels his hand on top of hers and speaks again after a minute.

“It’s going to be alright.”

She looks at his hand as it’s squeezing hers, an attempt to comfort her, and back at him. He must’ve taken as a sign that the gesture makes her uncomfortable because he lets go of her hand and apologizes right away. She wants to say something but his hand has already found the steering wheel and he seems completely focused on the road.

“Where do you want to go?” His voice cuts through the air, through the tension that settled down between the two of them over the past seconds, minutes.

Only then does she peels her eyes away from the window to tentatively look at him. 

“I don’t know.” She replies with a shrug. All that she knows for certain is that she doesn’t want to face her parents, not yet. She’s hoping that the more time she takes to face them, the less likely they will remember that they want to scold her. The vision of her parents’ face still haunts her and she doesn’t want to face that again.

If he spends the next twenty minutes driving around town trying to find the perfect place to take her next while she fiddles with the button on the console, trying to find some station she might like, the thought of stopping somewhere leaves his mind as soon as she starts humming along to whatever is playing on the radio, an old song he doesn’t recognizes.

“If you're in it for love you ain't gonna get too far” She’s singing out loud while sitting in the passenger seat of someone else’s car, something she swore she’d never do. No, singing in public isn’t her thing. She prefers the privacy of her shower to indulge in a karaoke session.

His head quickly turns and he looks at her, surprised to, first of all, hear her sing, but also at how great of a singer she is. He knew she could dance but he never guessed she could sing as well. 

The second she notices him though, she stops.

“Sorry.” She quickly apologizes. “I got carried away for a second.” Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, the color quickly spreading to the rest of her face as well as her neck.

He shakes his head. “No, feel free to sing your heart out.” He replies, shooting her an encouraging smile.

“Only if you sing with me.” 

“I’m not singing.” He says.

She tries to convince him until he makes a shocking revelation and, for a second there, he thinks she might be having a heart attack or something. The look on his face is something he’s never seen before. Her eyes are wide as she stares at him.

“I can’t believe you don’t know that song!” She yells, shaking her head at him with an almost disgusted look on her face.

“I swear I don’t.” He has to admit, it’s not really his kind of music.

“Maneater. A classic from Hall & Oats.” She says, as if that would give him any clue or magically make him remember the lyrics to a song he had no idea existed until now.

He shakes his head, letting her know that the title of that song nor the name of the artist rings a bell. 

“I’m highly disappointed.” She shakes her head and gives him a look that almost makes him feel bad.

“I’m more of a country guy.” He confesses and, if she looked at him with shock written all over her face, now, he’s pretty sure she’s in a state of shock.

“Do I even know you?” She says as serious as she can. “I can’t believe you don’t know Hall & Oats.” She says, shaking her head once more.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to educate me.” He retorts, a smug smile dancing on his lips.

“I definitely have to.”

And he keeps on driving.

And she keeps on singing.

***

“Come on kiddo.” 

The nickname comes out of his mouth so easily as he’s wrapping an arm around her shoulder that she almost doesn’t notice it. She looks at him, no need to say anything, the questioning look she’s giving him and her arched eyebrow say it all. It’s not that she minds, not at all actually – even if she can’t help but think he could’ve chosen something other than kiddo, a nickname that doesn’t make her feel like a child – she just didn’t expect it. It’s always been just Tess or Tessa. He replies with a shrug as they keep on walking and he’s pulling her a little closer to him.

“It’s getting late.” He whispers as they’re walking by the Humber River. “I should drive you home.”

She doesn’t protest and sits back in the passenger seat while he heads for the driver’s. 

The drive back to Tessa’s place is quiet and Scott doesn’t know what to say or do, noticing her whole body getting tense the closer they get to her house. 

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think it’ll be.” He says once the truck comes to a stop in front of her house, his hand finding hers again.

She doesn’t give him a look this time, her eyes focused on the front door of the house – more like a mansion – as she speaks. 

“I hope you’re right.”

She can feel a knot form in her stomach and throat as she squeezes his hand.

He watches her walk away after she got out of his car, push the door of the house open, their eyes meeting as she glances at him over her shoulder one last time. He’s not sure she can see him but still, he gives her an encouraging smile before she disappear behind the closing door.

It’s only a few seconds later, moment spent fixing that white door that he starts the engine and leaves the driveway, making his way back to his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the wait, you guys. The past two months have been crazy. Got a new job on the other side of the country and had to plan the move, make the move and adjust to this new life. It's been hectic but I'm back and hope I'll be able to update more frequently now that I'm settled into this new routine. I promise I'm not done with this story.
> 
> I hope it was worth the wait though and that you enjoyed this new chapter.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me and with this story even though I haven't been the most consistent writer. I means a lot to me. I hope you're still along for the ride cause I got a lot in store for these two.
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated.


	12. i wish I could disappear and run away from all of my fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think we need to talk.” Her father says, ever so serious, the second they see her walk by as she’s heading for the stairs.
> 
> She freezes for a moment, her eyes shut as if that would make everything better, as if that would help her wake up from this nightmare she’s in only to realize that none of this is real and that her father’s company is doing just fine. But when she opens her eyes, she’s not in her bed; her eyes aren’t fixed on the ceiling and she doesn’t have a choice but to face the fact. This. Is. Real.

She feels the weight in her chest return as soon as the door closes and she hears her mother’s voice call her name from across the living room. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” She says, closing her eyes as she leans her back against the door, as anxious as she was that morning or the night before, but resigned to the fact that the talk will happen no matter what. 

“I think we need to talk.” Her father says, ever so serious, the second he sees her walk by as she’s heading for the stairs.

She freezes for a moment, her eyes shut as if that would make everything better, as if that would help her wake up from this nightmare she’s in only to realize that none of this is real and that her father’s company is doing just fine. But when she opens her eyes, she’s not in her bed; her eyes aren’t fixed on the ceiling and she doesn’t have a choice but to face the fact. This. Is. Real.

She turns around and finally dares facing her parents whom are both sitting on the couch, next to each other, with their eyes patiently focused on her. She swallows with a bit of difficulty, the knot in her stomach and the lump in her throat both seemingly back and not going anywhere until they’ll be done with that conversation. She braces herself and walks slowly to the living room, taking a seat on the armchair, the only empty sitting space.

She takes a deep breath as she waits for her parents to speak, bracing herself for impact.  
Three.  
Two.  
One.

“What happened?”

She feels the tears prickling her eyes, the disappointment in her father’s voice still clearly audible.

“I couldn’t.”

Words leave her mouth with difficulty, a lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak.

“Why?” Her mother asks. “Scott and you seem to get along pretty well.”

Is this what marriage is all about, just getting along? She wants to laugh.

“Just because we get along doesn’t mean I want to marry him.” She feels a mixture of anger, unfairness and sadness bubbling inside of her, about to burst out. “Why is it that I don’t have a say at all about the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with? Why couldn’t you find another way to fix your mistake dad? Why do I have to go through this shit just because you are facing financial difficulties? If Jordan could find someone on her own without him being mom and dad approved, without him bringing anything to us, why can’t I do the same?”

And there it is. The look on her parents face is priceless and for a second, she thinks she should take a picture to commemorate the moment. She’s always been the shy, quiet one in the family; never one to question or defy authority but everyone has a breaking point and it happens to be Tessa’s.

“I don’t want to talk about that anymore. Find another solution to fix your problems because I am definitely not marrying Scott.” She adds before leaving the room, heading straight for her bedroom.

“ _I’m sure my parents hate me._ ” She sends him once she locked herself in her bedroom and is hiding under her duvet cover. 

“ _I’m sure they don’t. They’re your parents. They could never hate you._ ” He replies back exactly four minutes later. Four minutes during which she tries real hard not to cry, feeling her whole body shake with nerves, and dreads her parents’ reaction because she knows they won’t it go that easily.

“ _You weren’t there. You didn’t see my dad’s face. It was as if what I did was the worst betrayal ever._ ” 

She feels the tears roll down her cheeks just as someone knocks on the door. Two quiet knocks. Her mom’s signature move when she wants to check on her kids but knows that they’re upset. 

“Tessa?” And just as she predicted, she hears her mother’s quiet voice coming from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

“ _I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems._ ” 

If only she didn’t have to face all of this alone, if only he had been there with her, maybe she wouldn’t be so anxious. But the burden seemed to only be hers. After all, it was her family that shad the idea, her family that needed this to work. And Scott did exactly what he had to, so why would he face any of the backlashes from her reaction?

Tessa closes her eyes, wishing for a moment to disappear and forget about the mess that her life has become in the past few months. Pulling her head from under the covers after a minute, she finally mumbles a little “yes” even though she’s not entirely sure she wants to hear what her mother has to tell her right now.

The door opens slowly and finally, her mother walks in after closing it behind her. She sits on the edge of the bed and looks at her daughter. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, darling, but I think we have to.” She says, carefully pushing her daughter’s hair behind her ear just as she did when Tessa was a kid.

“What else is there to say?” Tessa asks, wiping the traces on the cheeks left from the tears she cried just a few minutes ago, as she sits up on her bed.

“I think that, first of all, I need to apologize on your father’s behalf and mine. We shouldn’t have put you in such a situation.” She says, and Tessa doesn’t know why but she has this feeling that this isn’t all her mother has to say. “You know we never would’ve done that if we had another solution.”

Tessa groans and lets herself fall back down on her mattress, pulling the covers up again. 

“You couldn’t just leave it at ‘we shouldn’t have done that, we’re sorry’, eh?” 

She can’t help but roll her eyes, grateful that her mother can’t see her. 

“Whatever more you have to say, I don’t care. I’m not doing this. It’s not my problem and I shouldn’t even be involved in this. Dad and you can’t just decide what the rest of my life is going to be like.” She retorts.

The silence that follows is quite uncomfortable but Tessa makes sure it’s not too long.

“Can you leave now? I just want to be alone.”

And so her mother leaves her room as quietly as she walked in, closing the door behind her.

“ _Okay, maybe it’s not as terrible as I make it out to be.” She types back, hesitating a few seconds before keeping on typing. “But don’t you think it’s unfair that I’m the only one dealing with all that crap? That you’re just going on with your life while I’m having shitty conversations with my parents about marrying you is the right thing to do. Not once they asked me how I felt about all of this._ ”

It takes a few more minutes for the grey bubble and dots to appear on the screen of her phone and she can’t help but feel slightly nervous. For some reason, she can’t help but think that he’s going to tell her that he did what he had to do, that she’s the one who didn’t fulfill her end of the deal, even though she knows it’s not like him to blame her. And then, they disappear, leaving her frowning at her screen. Why is she so anxious to read a text message? She doesn’t have time to think about it more because Scott’s picture pops up on her screen as his call is coming in.

“You’re right. You shouldn’t face this alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you tonight. I should’ve stayed.” 

“Hello to you too.” She replies, noting his lack of greeting.

“Hi.” He corrects himself. “You’re right.” He repeats, and that alone warms up her heart a little. At least, he feels the same. It’s not much but it’s something.

“But it’s not like I went on about my life as if nothing happened. I still had to answer my parents’ question.”

Well, she didn’t expect that and her silence is what encourages him to continue.

“Asking me what went wrong, why you didn’t say yes. I told them that it was a decision we both made, that it was too soon. That just seeing each other a couple times wasn’t nearly enough to make us fall for each other, if that ever were to happen.”

Even though he can’t see her, she nods in agreement.

“They’re mad at me, aren’t they?” She asks, unable to suppress the feeling that both of their families are mad at her, at her reaction.

“They’re not.” He reassured her, the words still not doing much to untangle the knot that’s still present in her stomach. “They get it, thinks it’s reasonable. I don’t know if it’s cause they think there’s still a chance of us getting married or what but they agreed that they maybe pushed me to ask you a little too soon.”

She can’t help but laugh a little even though this situation is anything but funny. 

“They definitely think we’ll get married in a near future though.” She retorts, a sigh passing her lips. “I mean I like you, you’re a great person. I just don’t love you.”

It’s one thing to say it to her parents or her sister but it’s a whole other thing to tell him. It’s the first time she made it this clear.

“I totally get it. It’s fine. I mean I totally feel the same.”

There’s something in his voice that she tries to ignore, something that makes her heart break a little. Something that makes her want to go back to that park, to his arm around her shoulders, her body leaning a little against his as she walked back to his truck, at this feeling of comfort and safety she felt for a moment there. When for a moment, everything was fine and they were just Tessa and Scott, not their parents’ kids.

“Okay.” She ends up saying, still not fully believing his words but deciding to let that go for now.

“So, excited to go back to school?” He asks after a moment of silence, steering the conversation in another direction. 

And that’s exactly what Tessa needs because she goes on for about five minutes, talking about how she can’t wait to see her friends again, how excited she is for the classes she has to take that fall semester, just to go back to Montreal and fall into her routine again.

And they fell into an easy conversation, jumping from one topic to another, getting to know each other a little bit more until the conversation stopped making sense and they couldn’t keep their eyes open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's finally here. The last few weeks of work were crazy and then I had to fly back home, go right back to school and catch up on stuff so, I apologize for the delay. As always, hope you like it. Comments are always appreciated either here or on twitter @musikxaddict.


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